


you and me and this joy of ours

by philthestone



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: ALSO ONE GROOT AND ONE BABY!!!!!, Gen, I LOVE BABIES!!!!!, otherwise known as phil is incapable of getting into any fandom without writing about babies, this is a kidfic if that wasnt very clear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 22:57:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11793225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philthestone/pseuds/philthestone
Summary: “Hey now,” says Peter. “We may be totally in over our heads, here, but we’re not alone. We got – we got Drax, and Groot – he’ll be great with a baby, I know he will – and Rocket, mostly sort of, and, uh, Mantis and – is your sister gonna drop by soon?”“Peter.”“Listen,” he says. “Gamora, listen – we’ll just … if everything else goes to shit, at least it’llknowthat we love it. Okay?”





	you and me and this joy of ours

**Author's Note:**

> i told yall the only thing i know how to do is write absurdly long kidfic. specifically oddly niche-y, very tangentially related to canon kidfic. this is where i thrive, homies.
> 
> the general disclaimer is that if u are uncomfortable with a five year old child existing in the general vulgarity & craziness that is the gotg canon environment, then u probably should not read this fic. that being said, i promise that this kid is well-cared-for and very very loved, despite being raised in relative insanity. 
> 
> gotg is very lighthearted in tone bc it doesnt take itself seriously at all, which gives it the ability to have v mature underlying themes. almost all the characters in this team have either suffered child abuse or trauma or both -- thanks, james gunn -- so there are going to be references to Mature Themes in this fic, even though nothing at all is explicitly discussed in any sort of detail. i just thought like ... u should know, before u started reading, especially because the fic is from the perspective of a five year old, so. as i said. if that makes u uncomfortable, please prioritize ur own happiness over reading this. 
> 
> woo, this is a long opening note, but i thought it was important to say all of that. with that all in mind, fic is set in a post-infinity war universe (whomst knows how many years after) and is, truly, very self-indulgent.
> 
> enjoy!

“D’you think the sky has feelings?”

There’s not that long of a pause before Uncle Drax answers, looking up at the clear glass dome above their heads with her.

“I was not aware,” he says seriously, in that funny deep voice of his, “that the sky was a sentient entity. It would be greatly amusing to meet it in person.”

Meredith gasps, looking down at him with eyes so wide that she thinks they just might pop right out of her head. 

“You mean the sky’s a _person_?” The awe in Meredith’s voice is very real, and she lets go of his shoulder and smacks her palms against her cheeks, like she once saw a lady do on Knowhere after some guy barfed in her lap.

Meredith didn’t know that personhood is a thing you needed to have feelings. She just figured that when the sky turns all sorts of funky colours, it must mean something, like feelings, ‘cause Daddy’ll say stuff like, “You’re lookin’ a bit blue,” to her whenever she’s upset, like if her favorite handmade ragdoll that Groot gifted her named Sally doesn’t want to play pretend because it’s a half-moon cycle.

The sky, probably, has the same sort of difficulties, only it must be _all the time_ on Xandar, ‘cause it’s _usually_ blue here. 

Right now, though, it’s pink.

Meredith _has_ to make contact, to test her theory. 

“Is that not what you just said?” says Uncle Drax, creasing his cool red eyebrows. 

“I dunno,” says Meredith, tapping her chin importantly with her finger and squinting upwards at the object of her musings. Uncle Drax makes a funny noise, like he just swallowed a bug, and Meredith has the good grace to look sheepish. _Try to make more sense than Daddy does when you talk_ , is the generally-accepted rule aboard the Milano.

Daddy tells her that the whole family’s a bunch of traitors and jerks, but he’s grinning as he says it, so Meredith isn’t sure _what_ he means. 

That, probably, is Uncle Drax’s point.

“To become a warrior worthy of respect,” says Uncle Drax, “you must say precisely what you mean. There is honour in that.”

“But d’you _think_ it does?” presses Meredith, ‘cause she’s heard the honour speech a hundred times and she’s _trying_ , she really is. Sometimes it’s hard to know exactly what she means, ‘cause she’s just got so many thoughts and meanings bouncing around in her head. “The sky, I mean. It’s all different colours in different places, Uncle Drax. I figured that’s gotta mean something.”

“A worthy observation,” allows Uncle Drax, shifting her slightly so that she’s perched higher against the crook of his arm. “You have sharp eyes, little Meredith.”

Meredith hums happily and throws her head back again, not noticing that the ends of her short curls are poking Uncle Drax in his right eyeball. The glass dome leading to the sky is _real_ high up, and lets all sorts of light in; Xandarians sure do like their big windows, Meredith thinks. She likes all the light, but sometimes everything’s just so _big_ that it makes Meredith feel extra little, and she doesn’t know if that’s good or bad. It’s easier when she’s just on the Milano and she can touch the ceiling if she climbs the boxes stacked in the cargo bay, even if sometimes she does slip and bump her elbows on the floor. Uncle Drax is much bigger than Meredith is, which means that he probably doesn’t feel quite so weird in this big big room. Meredith curls her toes inwards and lets her butt rest snugly against the crook of his elbow; he can beat up the big room, if its biggness gets too scary.

That’s what Meredith’s decided, at any rate. He’ll probably agree to this plan, mostly just ‘cause she knows Uncle Drax likes beating things up.

Daddy says she’s not allowed to beat things up ‘til she’s bigger, which is a real mood bummer, but Meredith’s learned to cope.

They’re on Xandar cause Mama and Daddy have to report back to Nova Prime after a job they’d done, something to do with bad guys stealing important historical artifacts, and even though everyone had said it was an easy job with not many complications or fires or black eyes, there was, apparently, lots to talk to Nova Prime about. Meredith figures Nova Prime is pretty cool, even if her hair’s kinda weird-looking, but boy, is her front lobby _boring_. Uncle Drax said that he’d wait with Meredith in the lobby, ‘cause he’s the best, and they’ve been walking back and forth across the mezzanine for almost a whole half hour, now, pointing out anyone with a particularly funny hairstyle and laughing. Except, Meredith feels the need to reiterate that funny hairstyles aside, the Nova Corps lobby is _not_ a whole lot of fun.

So Meredith’d started _thinking_.

Operation Sky Contact, mission one-point-oh – _start_. Meredith reaches her arms out, up towards the sky beyond the ceiling, and wiggles her fingers.

“Hello, big sky!” she yells, sincerely, at the sky. “If you c’n hear me, please tell me how you’re feelin’!”

One or two of the uniformed folks in the lobby pause and turn to look at them, funny expressions on their faces. Meredith would smile and wave, but then maybe the sky would think that she’s not committed enough and ignore her, so she keeps on looking right up.

“You’re all pink right now!” Meredith yells, cupping her hands around her mouth so the sky can hear her better. “So I figure that’s gotta mean somethin’ good!”

Uncle Drax shifts her against his shoulder again and then looks up at the sky, too, ‘cause he’s just the best and helps her out when she’s trying to figure things like this out.

“Speak, great being!” he yells, his voice twice as booming as hers. Meredith figures that _now_ the sky’s just _got_ to hear them. “And tell this small child your secrets!”

“I won’t tell ‘em to anyone else!” Meredith promises, still sincerely. Mama says that it’s not nice to talk about people’s secrets to other people when they’re not there. “I jus’ wanna know if you got feelings!”

On the other side of the big fountain in the middle of the lobby, two pink ladies have started whispering between themselves. Meredith wants to go over and tell them how pretty they look right now, but she needs to hear back from the sky, first.

“Excuse me,” says a small nasally voice at Uncle Drax’s elbow. Meredith swivels around in her arm-perch to look at it; Uncle Drax grunts quietly where the tips of her hair flick in his eyeball again, but doesn’t complain. The tiny man looking up at them has some crazy funny looking eyebrows and big ears that stick right out, which Meredith thinks is great, but his mouth is all pinched, like people’s mouths do when they’re uncomfortable. “Excuse me. Miss …”

“I’m Meredith!” says Meredith, ‘cause it’s always important to introduce yourself to folks. That’s just _polite_ , is what it is. Meredith thinks that it’s not very fun that he doesn’t feel good and happy, though, even after she’s introduced herself, so she grins at him. Grinning makes people feel more comfortable, she thinks, ‘cause it shows that you’re nice. “Meredith Quill! Nice to meet you!”

The man blinks at her, twice.

“Hi, Mister!” continues Meredith; she didn’t actually say hello, did she? “We were just talkin’ to the sky. D’you wanna join us?”

(Including people in things, Meredith knows, also makes them feel good. It means you’re being _friendly_. At least, that’s what Mama says.)

The man clears his throat again, one eye trained on Uncle Drax’s unimpressed expression while the other flicks outward towards Meredith. Meredith has half a mind to tell Uncle Drax to _smile_ , ‘cause can’t he see he’s making this weird guy and his funny eyebrows feel nervous?

“No,” says the man slowly. “I will pass, thank you. I only came to ask you to please lower your volume – this is an official state building, and people are working.”

“But if I don’t yell,” says Meredith, “the sky won’t hear me.”

This should be _obvious_ , Meredith thinks.

“Ah,” says the man, “I, ah –”

“You cannot see that this child is attempting to extend friendship to a great entity?” asks Uncle Drax tilting his head forward. Meredith is real happy that Uncle Drax is here, to ask these things.

“The,” says the man, “the – sky?”

“ _Duh,_ ” says Meredith. She leans in, close to the guy’s face, just in case there’s any bad guys around who might use her motives against her (Mama says that she must always be careful of bad guys), and whispers. “I’m askin’ her if she’s got feelings!”

“I did not know the sky was female,” says Uncle Drax.

“She’s not always,” Meredith tells him. “Only on Sundays.”

“It’s a Wednesday,” says the little man, whose funny eyebrows are looking bewildered.

“On Sundays and Wednesdays,” says Uncle Drax. He steps forward and does that funny thing he can do where he clenches his arm to his muscles pop a little. “You are a reasonable man, yes?”

“Yes?” says the man, but it comes out like a question, and Meredith giggles.

“You will leave this child to her attempts at friendship, yes?”

“I –”

“Uncle Drax,” says Meredith, “what if he wants to be friends with the sky _too_.”

“No!” says the man, shaking his head furiously. “No, that’s perfectly fine – you – yes, goodbye. Good day. I – yes, good, fine –”

And then he turns and scurries away.

“He seemed like he’d got a case of the nerves,” says Meredith seriously, tapping her chin again. “You should’a smiled at him, Uncle Drax. I think he was scared of you.”

“Perhaps that would have been wise,” Uncle Drax agrees. “People are usually intimidated by my very presence. Has the sky responded yet?”

“I haven’t heard anything,” says Meredith sadly. “But maybe she’s just out on holiday.”

“Perhaps,” says Uncle Drax again. His face softens, even though her hair’s still poking him in the eye and it’s making him squint funny. Uncle Drax’s face does that, sometimes – the softening, not the squinting – like he’s looking at her and remembering something. It happens sometimes when he’s teaching her own to cook his famous Unidentifiable Stew, or when he gave her Mister Snufflepuss, who’s a pink squishy toy with a big bouncy nose that’s soft and worn on the outside and Uncle Drax said it used to belong to _his_ little girl. Meredith’s never met his little girl, but Mama says that she doesn’t play with Mister Snufflepuss anymore, so it’s okay for Meredith to keep him, especially if Uncle Drax wants Meredith to have him. 

Uncle Drax says that Mister Snufflepuss will give her a reason to become a strong warrior, so that she can protect him from bad guys, just like he protects her. Uncle Drax does a lotta things for her, thinks Meredith. He’s not usually particularly good at sitting around waiting for things – like waiting in the Nova Corps lobby – Meredith knows. But somehow, he’s always happy to sit and do it with her. 

He says, “You are a good child, little Meredith,” and Meredith says, “Thanks, Uncle Drax.” She rubs at her nose with the back of her hand. “Hey – let’s count the shapes in the wall ‘til everyone gets back!”

He turns, and smiles now, ‘cause Uncle Drax is the best and always plays these games with her. The lobby’s still a little boring, but Meredith likes shapes, and she likes Uncle Drax even better, and she knows that Daddy’ll sneak her a Xandarian caramel on their way back to the ship the way he always does when they stop on Xandar, so Meredith doesn’t mind.

**

“Hold your arms a little straighter, _meya_. There, like that.”

Meredith scrunches her face up with concentration as Mama nudges her arms gently, moving them up higher so that the point of the knife isn’t pointing right at the ground. Which Meredith was doing on purpose, obviously. Her arms were just taking a small nap.

“Mama, will the bad guys run ‘way if I point it straighter?”

Mama makes a clicking sound with her tongue, the one that usually means someone is going to be shushed, and lets her hands rest on Meredith’s shoulders. Meredith thinks that watching Mama shush some bad guys would be awful fun to watch, even if that does mean they’d have to get all up close and personal with said bad guys. Mama’s not scared of _anything_ , Meredith thinks, _even_ bad guys. 

“The bad guys will run away because no one’s allowed to come close to my daughter,” says Mama, poking her gently in the side with her other hand and grinning, and, you know, _there_ , that proves Meredith’s point. Mama’ll scare all the bad guys away and then be there to hug and kiss her goodnight, because she’s awesome like that. Those’re Daddy’s words, but Daddy’s usually right when it comes to Mama. 

( _Not usually right about most other things, though_ , says Mama in a teasing voice, while Daddy laughs and laughs on the other side of the table.)

Mama’s hands are strong and pretty, with long fingers that are always so sure of themselves. Meredith’s hands are small and not nearly as good at being sure, and just a little bit rolly polly. She squeals a little and wriggles at the poke, because she’s _real_ good at wriggling, and also her sides are ticklish and Mama _knows_ that.

“Mama! But what if they’re close t’ _you_ , then who’s gonna scare ‘em away?”

“Hmmm,” says Mama seriously, scrunching her own face up in a frown. Meredith learned her face-scrunching from Mama, after all. “Well, I guess that’s you. But only if you learn how to hold this knife properly.”

“With my arms up straight!” says Meredith.

“With your arms up straight,” confirms Mama, nodding. 

Meredith holds her arms up as straight as can be, because she’d never want her Mama to be stuck with bad guys she maybe couldn’t scare off without _backup_ , and twirls around proudly to show off her arm-holding.

Mama pulls back her head to avoid getting poked in the eye in one smooth movement, not even blinking, and presses her hands back against Meredith’s shoulders, gentle again, nudging her back a few steps. Meredith sticks her tongue out in a frown because she didn’t _mean_ to nearly poke out any eyes (Uncle Drax once told her that sharp things can poke out eyes if you hold ‘em too close to your face, and Meredith couldn’t tell if he was trying to be all serious about it or if he found that a real exciting thought) and pulls her arms back close to her chest.

“Sorry, Mama.”

Daddy always says you gotta apologize when you accidentally almost maim someone, and Meredith isn’t sure what _maim_ means yet, but she figures it’s got something to do with poking things where they’re not supposed to go, so she’s apologizing. ‘Cause she’s got _manners_ , okay.

“It’s okay, sweet pea,” says Mama, using the nickname that Daddy uses all the time. Meredith’s got a hundred different names with everyone in her family, big names and little names and all sorts in between – she gets called something new by each person every day. Uncle Rocket and Groot have almost four between the two of them; Daddy’s got nearly ten just himself.

Mama, though – Mama calls her _meya_ , which she says is what _her_ Mama’d call her, way back when she was a little girl like Meredith. Meredith can hardly imagine Mama as a person as little as herself, ‘cause Mama is tall and strong and all grown up, and it’s a _weird_ thought. But then, Meredith bets Mama once thought that about _her_ Mama too.

Meredith’s never met that Mama. Uncle Rocket says that she’d be what folks’d call a “grandma”, which sounds real neat, but Daddy told her that both her grandmas are gone somewhere else for now, and so are her grandpas, and she’s not gonna get to meet them for a really long time. Somewhere far away in the stars, so far you’d need a hundred _million_ jumps to get there, and so they can’t do it for a really long time ‘til that’s invented. Meredith figures that that’s something that makes Daddy sad, and it’s also why Mama insists on calling her _meya_. 

It means “dear one”, Mama’s told her before. Meredith thinks it’s extra special, and holds onto it really tight.

But right now, Mama’s not using it, and her face is doing something where it goes from smiling or tight to real, real soft, and almost a little sad, like she’s thinking about something that happened a long time ago. Gentle, sorta. Like her whole everything becomes gentle, even though Meredith’s seen her throw whole speeders at people and kick a mean person who tried to shoot at Uncle Rocket in the face, once. Meredith thinks that that’s pretty cool, and wonders if one day _she_ can’t learn to kick people in their faces, too. Right now, though, she’s happy Mama is here being gentle with her, ‘cause that’s her favorite kind of Mama.

“Mama?” asks Meredith. “Are you gonna keep showin’ me how to use the knife?”

She can’t very well be a grown up five year old if she doesn’t know how to use a _knife_ properly, after all. At least, that’s what Uncle Drax says, almost five times a week. Meredith thinks Mama agrees.

“Of course,” says Mama immediately. “To stop would be foolish.”

(There – she definitely agrees.)

“But –” Mama bites her lip, and Meredith frowns.

“Mama?”

Mama takes Meredith’s hands into her own, knife and all, and Meredith thinks about how nice Mama’s hands are again.

“Meredith,” says Mama, something different about her voice. One long finger touches Meredith’s chin to make her stop looking at the hands; Meredith nods, to show she’s listening. Mama’s gentle finger moves over lightly to tap Meredith’s cheek.

“Yes, Mama?”

“I –” Mama looks down at the knife, just for a moment. “Remember how I tell you that you’re more dear to me than anything in the world?”

“Uh huh,” says Meredith honestly, because Mama says that a whole lot.

“Well, when I was little,” says Mama, “like you –” She pauses again, and squeezes Meredith’s hands just a bit.

“Mama,” says Meredith, again, honestly. “Do you need a hug?”

(Meredith doesn’t have a whole lotta marketable skills – that’s something Uncle Rocket said once, about them doing a job – but she _can_ tell whenever anyone on the ship needs a hug. Sometimes even when people are upset, they don’t need hugs. But sometimes, Meredith knows, even if someone doesn’t look all upset, they’d really like a hug. Only, you’ve always gotta ask them first, is what Mama and Daddy have taught her. Folks don’t always like being touched, _even_ if they really need a hug.)

Mama laughs, now, clear and bright. It’s a pretty sound, thinks Meredith.

“From you? Always.”

Meredith grins, and throws her arms around Mama’s neck, knife still clutched in her fists. Mama squeezes her tightly and rocks, just a little bit, on her knees.

“I don’t want you to be fighting any bad guys, Mer,” says Mama, in a quiet voice, against Meredith’s cheek. “Not big ones. It’s not always fun, okay?”

“Okay,” says Meredith, because Meredith knows that Mama would never tell her anything that’s not true and right. Mama knows _everything_ , even more than Daddy does.

They stay there for a few beats, holding onto each other. Mama smells like leather and engine oil and flowers, like she always does, and Meredith sighs happily into her shoulder. She’s not even getting antsy, like she usually would after standing still so long, just ‘cause Mama’s hugs are so _nice_.

“Of course,” says Mama, pulling away. Her eyes are sparkling, like they usually do when she’s about to suggest something real fun. “Of course – we’re still learning how to be the coolest knife-fighters ever, obviously.”

“Better than Uncle Drax!” says Meredith, because he’s the _best_.

“ _So_ much better,” whispers Mama, grinning at her like they’re sharing a big secret.

“Yay yay yay yay yay!” 

Meredith bounces around the cargo bay at least twice over before Mama manages to gently pry the knife from her fingers. People can accidentally maim _themselves_ , it turns out, which is a very important fact that Meredith didn’t know before. 

“Sorry, Meredith,” Meredith tells herself, ‘cause she’s got _manners_. Mama laughs again, and Meredith’s not quite sure why, but it’s such a nice sound, and it always makes her feel real safe, more than any knife skills ever can.

**

“So then the orloni says – ‘cause she’s missing her grand empress – anyway, she says, _oh wow, you’re a real big hero, Mooka_! ‘N then Mooka, who’s – she’s still got the flower of destiny, remember – she’s like there’s this big hill? And so she climbs the hill to show off her hero skills to the orloni, and there’s two suns on the top of the hill –”

“I am Groot?”

“No, Groot, suns, like the bright shiny things – Mama says they’re made of gas and fire, like the stars – so there’s two of ‘em at the top of the hill, and–”

“I am Groot.”

“Well, yeah. ‘Cause Mooka wanted to save the beetle bug from Rainbow Prime’s spaceship of awesome!”

“I am Groot.”

“But you didn’t lemme finish the _story_. So then when Mooka goes to the top of the hill –”

“I am Groot.”

“Oh, yeah, jus’ like that, you’re right! And then –”

Except here, Meredith’s mouth betrays her in an awful and terrible fashion, and she yawns.

“Oh, no,” says Aunt Mantis, who, like Meredith and Groot, is in the middle of sticking flowers to the cooling unit with the last of Uncle Drax’s scotch tape, the happy sounds of Sam Cooke filtering through the ship’s speakers. It’s to make it _pretty_ , ‘cause Meredith thinks it’s looking all rusty and dented and that’s no fun.

 _It’s balls old, is what it is_ , Daddy had said earlier today, when Meredith had proposed her plan to make it look all nice to the family at large. _You can have at it all you like, Mer-Bear. Just don’t break it, or anything._

Meredith is determined not to break it, or anything. Except now she’s yawning, which means that Aunt Mantis is saying, “Oh, no,” which means that she’s gonna have to go to _bed_ without properly _taping_ all the _flowers_.

Really, it’s the _worst_ thing that could happen; even worst than Meredith not being able to finish telling her latest epic tale of imagination to Groot. Groot would never betray her, though, so she looks at him, a desperate plea for backup.

“I am Groot,” says Groot.

That _traitor_.

“But I don’t wanna go to bed,” Meredith says now, definitely _not_ whining. She doesn’t whine, no matter _what_ Daddy says. Whining’s for little babies. Meredith’s a big grown up space cowboy, just like Daddy is, and space cowboys don’t _whine_.

“You father whines all the time,” Mama has said before, with her pretty silver eyebrows raised that _way_ she has which means Meredith’s about to get marched off to brush her teeth and get ready for bed.

These whining conversations, Meredith realizes, with a small pout to her lip, usually happen in the later hours of the night.

“I am Groot,” says Groot.

“But ‘m not _tired_ ,” says Meredith. She tries to stand up all tall and grown up in her chair, crossing her arms, and hopes that the fact that she’s got some tape stuck to her forehead from before when she had to find somewhere to put it isn’t ruining the effect. Meredith turns towards Aunt Mantis, whose big eyes are even bigger with concern. Aunt Mantis has lots of stray flower petals in her hair, and Meredith thinks they make her look extra pretty, but she can’t back down and tell her that _now_ ‘cause if she does then she won’t get to stay up as long. “I wanna wait ‘til everyone comes _home_ – you _said_ I could!”

“I am Groot.”

“He is right,” Aunt Mantis says again, holding up their half-finished string of petals. “We don’t know when everyone will be back!”

Which is, of course, exactly when everyone gets back. 

From a _heist_ , is what Mama had called it. “It’s when we gots this real elaborate plan to steal somethin’ from some fancy-pants big guy,” Uncle Rocket had explained to her, when she’d asked. “And we get _paid_ for it, which is the important part, Pipsqueak.” 

Meredith had thought that sounded like a whole lot of fun.

Meredith knows that she’s not old enough for heists yet, and Groot’d been growing lots of flowers lately – “‘S that time of year,” Daddy had said, raising his eyebrows in a way Meredith knew must mean _something_ , ‘cept she wasn’t really sure what – so he’d been the obvious choice to stay behind and decorate kitchens. Aunt Mantis stayed so that she could monitor the ship’s comms and keep everyone posted, but she was multitasking, and also helping with the flowers. 

That was three hours ago, though, and now, Meredith jumps up and down in her chair a whole five times because of how excited she is that everyone’s back. 

There’s a big crash from somewhere at the front of the ship, and the clunky sound of the gangway opening rumbles to life underneath them. Cranky ship sounds means Meredith doesn’t have to go to bed ‘cause it’s rude not to say goodnight to _everyone_ on the ship first, and Meredith yells happily and bounces up and down in her chair another four times, just for the heck. 

“They’re back they’re back they’re back they’re –”

Aunt Mantis makes a funny face, like her nose is scrunching up sideways, and holds her hands together in front of her. “Yes, they are back,” she says, “but maybe things will be better if you are asleep first, Meredith.”

“ _What_ things,” says Meredith, crossing her arms. “Things’re good, Manty. I wanna see ‘em! ‘N the flowers’ll go all wilty if we stop now!”

Groot makes an alarmed face and prods Aunt Mantis in the shoulder a few times.

“I am Groot!”

“Oooh,” says Aunt Mantis, her eyebrows creasing up. “The flowers dying will be very sad.”

“More sad ‘n me not going to bed?” asks Meredith excitedly, standing up in her chair. 

“Well –”

“– jus’ get the engine started,” says a rough voice from the doorway to the kitchen. “I’ll be fi – oh hey, baby, you’re still up.”

“Daddy!”

The scurry from whichever inanimate (or animate) perch Meredith’s been sitting on to her father’s leg has always been an exciting one, ‘cause nine times out of ten he’ll reach down and scoop her up with one arm and toss her over his shoulder like a sack of purple tubers. Meredith loves being tossed like purple tubers, only this time when she reaches him and latches onto his leg, Daddy just sways a little and puts a big hand over Meredith’s head like he’s trying to hold them both in place.

“Woah, there, hold up kiddo. Dad’s a bit busted up right now, okay, lemme sit down first.”

Meredith looks up with big eyes to where Daddy’s leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, her arms still holding onto his leg. Daddy’s pretty tall – not as tall as Uncle Drax or Groot, but _tall_ – and when he’s got his long coat and mask and guns, and he’s standing there side by side with Mama, Meredith always thinks that nothing in the whole galaxy could take him down.

Right now, though, he’s standing a little funny, like one of his legs isn’t doing its job properly. And there’s a big fat bruise right on his eye.

Meredith says, “wow”, silently, ‘cause she’s never seen a black eye before.

Well, no, that’d be wrong. Meredith’s seen black eyes before, loads of times. Just, she’s never seen one all up close and _personal_ , like right in front of her _face_ and stuff. They look different like that. Sorta funky lookin’. 

Also, Meredith guesses everything looks a bit different when it’s on your _dad_.

“I am Groot.”

“Nah, just bruising, minor stuff – my leg’s all screwed up. Gamora keeps saying they might’ve got the ribs, too, but – med kit’s still on top of the stove, right?”

“I am Groot.”

“Does it hur –”

“It’s fine, Mantis,” says Daddy, shuffling forward with Meredith still glued to his leg, his hand never leaving the crown of her head. Aunt Mantis has her hands spread out, like she does when she wants to help someone with yucky feelings, but Daddy shakes his head. “Go help Gamora and Rocket in the cockpit, they need you more. Groot, could you –”

“I am Groot.”

“Thanks, buddy.” Daddy sits down slowly, so slowly it’s almost funny to Meredith, and takes their battered med kit from Groot’s outstretched branch as he goes. His hair’s sticking up at the top, sorta burnt-lookin’, and there’s a bit of blood still smeared on his cheek and nose. He offers Meredith a lopsided smile, and then winks at her (twice – the first time it doesn’t work so well, cause his black eye eye doesn’t wanna co-operate for some reason, Meredith guesses, and then the second time with his regular eye) before slumping in the chair and making a funny groaning noise.

“You look funny, Daddy,” Meredith tells him.

“You think so, huh?” asks Daddy seriously, squinting at her a bit as he opens up the kit. Meredith giggles, and rests her chin against his knee. “Is it the hair?”

“It’s sticking up _straight_ up!” Meredith yells, giggling again ‘cause it’s just _so_ funny-looking, and then pressing her cheek to Daddy’s leg and wriggling out of the way when his fingers find her ticklish spot. Meredith’s got seven and a half whole ticklish spots, and Daddy knows all of them.

“C’mere, green bean,” says Daddy, patting the top of his leg. “You can help patch your old man up.”

“Did you beat the bad guys?” Meredith asks, planting her hands across Daddy’s thigh and climbing up the side of the chair and into his lap. He grunts, just a little, when her elbow knocks into his tummy, but smiles at her when she finally plops down against his leg and takes the big bottle of antiseptic foam from his hand.

“Beat all their butts right to the ground,” Daddy confirms. “Alright – hey, gently now, okay Mer? Help me out here – I can’t see what spots on my face I gotta clean.”

“The whole thing,” Meredith tells him, honestly. Daddy laughs, but then stops halfway through and makes another funny grunting noise.

“Daddy?”

“What!” says Daddy, smiling in a way that makes it look like it’s hard to smile. Meredith thinks that’s sort of strange, but his eye is sparkling like it does when he’s being real silly, so she figures it must be okay. “No way, it can’t be!” 

“I am Groot,” says Groot.

“So that’s how it is,” he says, his finger coming up to bop Meredith on the nose, even as his other hand presses funny against his side. Meredith squirts a big pile of foam into her hand and lets it smear over Daddy’s forehead.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, kiddo.”

“Does your ribs hurt a lot?”

Daddy hesitates (he doesn’t usually hesitate – Uncle Rocket always says that he never thinks before he does anything, and Meredith’s still not sure if that’s good or bad), and makes a funny noise like he’s breathing only he’s not sure of what kind of breath he wants to take.

“Nah,” he says, finally. “Not a lot. You’re dad’s pretty tough, Mer-Bear.”

“That’s not what Uncle Drax says,” says Meredith, sticking her tongue out a bit as she methodically rubs the foam all over his face. His eyes are squeezed shut and his mouth is pinched a bit funny, but he doesn’t complain. “He says you’re all soft and brickable. I mean – _brreak_ -able.”

Meredith’s been working on her pro- _nun_ -cee- _ai_ -shun.

Daddy spits out a bit of foam with a soft _pewh_ sound, and Meredith watches as it floats down to rest on her leg, then looks back up at him, expectant.

“You Uncle Drax,” says Daddy, “is a big fat liar.”

“I am Groot,” says Groot, who is still taping flowers to the fridge. 

“Not you too!” says Daddy. “What is this, let’s all drag Peter’s ass night?” He grins, and winks at Meredith again with his good eye to show that he’s just jokin’ around (Daddy’s usually jokin’ around), one hand coming up to find Ticklish Spot Number Four.

“Daddy!” squeaks Meredith, and sticks a foam covered hand in his ear in retaliation. He’s probably gonna tickle her _real_ hard, Meredith thinks, ‘cause foam in your ear always feels so _awfully_ funny.

He doesn’t do anything but gasp and double over, though, and Meredith didn’t even realize that her knee came up instinctively to ram into Daddy’s stomach and now Daddy’s making another funny face.

It’s even funnier, this time, ‘cause he’s all covered in foam, but for some reason Meredith doesn’t want to laugh. 

“Daddy?”

“I – ah – yeah, baby, it’s fine.”

Meredith is only five and a half, and so maybe her understanding of the word “fine” isn’t super duper awesome good, but most of the time when people say things are _fine_ , they don’t stop playing with you. Or make weird wheezy gasping noises like something in their chest is broke.

“I am Groot,” says Groot, and Daddy’s sharp, “Not here, Groot,” isn’t fast enough to stop Meredith from hearing.

“Daddy?”

“‘M fine,” says Daddy again, meeting her eyes and offering her a weak smile. “Daddy’s just a bit tired, okay? You’re doin’ a real good job patching me up, though. Number one space ace Mer-Bear Quill.”

“Daddy,” says Meredith, “why’d Groot say you maybe gotta go to the medcenter. That’s a place for sick people.”

It’s hard to tell under all the foam and purple and soot, but Meredith’s known Daddy all five and a half years of her life, and for some strange reason his face goes paler than it already is. From the other end of the kitchen, Groot makes a sudden move, like he wants to come closer, but doesn’t, instead just standing there by the fridge holding his flowers and looking worried.

“‘M not,” says Daddy, his good eye wide, sudden and jerky and hard like Daddy usually never is, he’s loud and funny and easy, warm maybe, and Meredith doesn’t mean to but she leans back just a little bit and Daddy’s hand comes back up to cup the back of her head so that she doesn’t overbalance and fall off his knee. Daddy’s hand is warm like it usually is, which makes Meredith feel a little less weird. He takes one breath, and then two, and his face twitches like he’s trying real hard not to frown. 

“Meredith,” he says. “I’m not sick. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re not?” 

“No.” His voice has stopped being hard, and it’s all quiet and croaky now, which is still sorta weird but better than before. “No, I ain’t. I’m right here. You got me? I’m _right_ here and I’m fine, and you don’t have to worry about a damn thing.”

“Oh,” says Meredith.

“‘S just some bruises on my ribs,” says Daddy. “So it hurts when you kick ‘em, sweet pea, even accidentally.”

“Sorry, Daddy’s ribs,” Meredith tells his chest, sincerely, ‘cause that’s what you do when you’re polite like Meredith is. 

“I am Groot,” says Groot, in a quiet sort of voice.

“It’s okay,” says Daddy, tugging Meredith gently so that she rests her head against his shoulder. Meredith lets him, and slumps against the soft, pliable material of his jacket. “It’s okay, Groot.”

Meredith doesn’t know why Groot’s sorry, but Daddy’s voice has stopped sounding funny altogether now and instead just sounds tired, which Meredith thinks is fair – _she’s_ kinda tired too, _maybe_ , now that she thinks on it. It’s real late at night, after all, and even if Meredith doesn’t like bedtime a whole lot, sitting here in Daddy’s lap with the soft music of the ship’s sound system still going in the background on loop sure does make her feel sleepy.

“We’ll just sit here a bit,” says Daddy into her hair. “Mer’s done a real good job cleaning me up. I’ll be fine for now.”

She smells Mama when she wakes up, the sway of someone carrying her in their arms under her, and lets herself be covered by the soft worn sheets of her parents’ bed, muted voices in the background. 

_Be more careful_ , is the last thing she hears before her eyes slide all the way shut again, in Daddy’s soft soft voice, the one he uses when he’s talking to Mama sometimes, and Meredith thinks that she should ask him what they’re being careful about in the morning, _if_ she remembers.

**

“Wrench.”

“Uh huh.”

“Spanner.”

“Uh huh.”

“Battery.”

“Uncle Ro Ro, there’s two whole different coloured batteries here.”

Meredith swings her legs and holds them up in her hands, one clunky and purple and the other small and glowing gold.

“Huh,” says Uncle Rocket, tapping his furry chin with the end of a screwdriver. “Which one d’you recommend, Pipsqueak?”

“Hmmmmmmmm,” says Meredith, scrunching up her nose and considering the two batteries. She would put on her thinking face if she could, only her hands are full and her thinking face requires one hand to hold her chin, so that she can show everyone how much she’s _really_ thinkin’ hard. “The purple one’s for big stuff.”

“Uh huh,” says Uncle Rocket. 

“‘N the yellow one’s for little stuff,” continues Meredith, still looking at them hard. “Uncle Ro Ro, are we makin’ something big or little?”

Uncle Rocket hums slightly and twirls his screwdriver in one hand.

“Little, kid.”

“Yellow one!” says Meredith triumphantly, holding up the smaller battery. Meredith always loves helping Uncle Rocket out with his projects, ‘cause he teaches her all these cool things about big and little parts.

Uncle Rocket continues to hum, taking the yellow battery from Meredith’s hands and fitting it into a small round opening in the thingie in his hands. Uncle Rocket’s hands are always so fast, Meredith thinks, swinging her legs along to the bouncy tunes of Daddy’s music, filtering through the ship’s speakers. They can put things together and take ‘em apart in barely no time at all. Meredith wonders if she can make things that fast, one day.

“Sure you can, kid,” says Uncle Rocket, when Meredith asks. “Stick around with me an’ I’ll have you puttin’ together guns bigger than your own head in no time.”

“What about bigger’n Uncle _Drax’s_ head,” says Meredith, swinging her legs out extra hard.

“Eh,” says Uncle Rocket, spinning a washer bolt around with his claw and grinning. “Dunno, Pip. He’s got a helluva big head, don’t he.”

Meredith giggles, and turns over the remaining clunky battery in her hands a couple times, watching the bubbly purple liquid bob up and down inside its container. It’s late, later than Meredith’s usual bedtime, but tonight Mama said she could stay up and help Uncle Rocket in the engine room, ‘cause she’d been such a good girl this whole week. She was gonna play hide and seek with Groot, but then Daddy said that her and Mama and Daddy’s room was out of bounds tonight, and that’s where all the best hiding spots are, Meredith knows. 

They tried playing hide and seek in other places for a little bit, but Meredith kept finding Groot too easily, so now she’s here in the engine room, with Uncle Rocket, and Groot’s fast asleep on the couch, covered in flowers.

“Uncle Ro Ro, why couldn’t me and Groot play hide ‘n seek tonight?”

Uncle Rocket laughs, the short, funny laugh he always does that makes Meredith giggle, and fits another piece onto his Thingie. 

“What,” he says, “‘s my company no good?”

“ _No_ ,” says Meredith, kicking her feet out a little bit and slumping in her perch on one of the big crates in the engine room. “Just ‘cause _our_ room’s got the best _hiding_ spots ‘n we’re not aloud to use it.”

“You’re not allowed to use it, huh?”

“Nope,” says Meredith, popping her _p_ and holding the bubbly purple battery upside down. “Mama says she and Daddy had stuff to do. What stuff’re they doing, Uncle Ro Ro?”

Uncle Rocket twists a wire into place, still humming, and without missing a beat says,

“Oh, they’s prob’ly screwin’.”

Meredith frowns.

“What’re they screwin’?”

“Each other, kid.” He looks up to see Meredith looking at him expectantly – not her thinking face, but her learning face – and raises an eyebrow. “It’s somethin’ grown ups do when they got the hots for each other.”

Meredith frowns even harder.

“So,” she says, slowly, “so – do they got these hots?”

Kind of like how Mama has shirts, maybe, or guns – Meredith can’t think of any other way you could _got_ something.

“Kid,” says Uncle Rocket, flicking his tail a bit and giving her another look, like he’s thinking of something Meredith doesn’t completely understand, “one’a these days you gotta start learnin’ to use your head. Any moron with eyes can see _that_. How’d you think you got here, huh?”

“Oh,” says Meredith, like she understands, even though she doesn’t really – maybe she’ll ask Uncle Drax about it later. She’s not sure what being hot has anything to do with anything. Meredith does know that sometimes when she feels too warm, her cheeks heat up and get darker just like Daddy’s do, and _sometimes_ Mama will whisper things in Daddy’s ears that Meredith isn’t allowed to hear and those make _his_ cheeks go all dark, like the room’s really warm only Meredith knows it’s not ‘cause she’s there, too.

“Is it somethin’ they hold in their hands?” asks Meredith. Uncle Rocket has a whole box full of heat packs, Meredith knows, for when anyone gets hurt or cold.

“Somethin’ like that,” says Uncle Rocket, twisting on another few parts around the Thingie and grinning. “Means they like each other a whole frickin’ lot.”

Meredith wonders if this has to do with how Mama once told her that not everyone likes to be kissed and hugged by just anyone, and how sometimes we give folks special kisses and hugs ‘cause they’re important to us in a different way from other folks. Like sometimes, Daddy kisses Mama on the lips instead of the cheek or head like he does with Meredith. Meredith knows that Mama always smiles when he does that, but Uncle Drax didn’t smile that time Daddy got real drunk and kissed _him_ on the lips.

Uncle Rocket _laughed_ , that time, and Meredith’s pretty sure after a couple seconds Uncle Drax was laughing too, but – she _thinks_ she knows what Mama was talking about.

She holds her battery up to her eye so that she can look through it to the other side; the purple stuff is making everything look funky and messed up, including Uncle Rocket’s face. “But now I can’t play hide and seek. Uncle Ro Ro, your face looks funny.”

“ _Your_ face looks funny,” says Uncle Rocket, turning his Thingie on its head and knocking it once with the fat end of his screwdriver. “You can play hide ‘n seek some other night, Pip.”

“Do they _hafta_ do screwin’ tonight?”

“Jeez kid, I ain’t in their pants! Can it and hand me that red panel, wouldja?”

“Am _I_ gonna do screwin’ when I’m a grown up?” asks Meredith, ‘cause this all seems like some very important stuff and Meredith may not have free hands to put on her thinking face, but Daddy says when she’s got questions, she should ask ‘em all up ‘til she feels good about it. She’s not wearing any pants right now – just an old shirt of Mama’s that Meredith uses as a nightgown – and she wonders if that means that she can’t have any of these hots.

Uncle Rocket shrugs, taking the red panel from Meredith’s outstretched hand and fitting it over the exposed wiring. 

“Depends, kid.” He sticks a thin-looking wrench in between his sharp teeth and twists a knob on the Thingie around twice, hard. It looks like it’s twisted on real tight, at any rate, thinks Meredith, tilting her head to the side. “Anyhoo,” says Uncle Rocket, pulling the wrench out from between his teeth and flipping a few pieces over, “you don’t gotta worry ‘bout these things ‘til another ten years, anyways.” 

“Ten whole _years_ ,” says Meredith. 

He wrinkles his nose. “Or is it five? I dunno, humie life cycles’re kooked. Hand me those pliers, willya?”

“Huh,” says Meredith, and hands him the pliers. “Is the hots like what Mama says ‘bout special kisses ‘n touches ‘n stuff.”

“Sure.” Uncle Rocket pulls at an exposed wire with his teeth, and the Thingie sparks a bit. Meredith says _oooh_ , ‘cause that’s what you’re supposed to do when things are super cool, and grins at him.

“Listen, though,” says Uncle Rocket, pushing up his work goggles and holding the pliers up to Meredith’s face, like he’s gonna say something real serious. “You remember what we’ve talked about?”

“Uhuh,” says Meredith. 

“Any d’ast idiot tries touching you without you liking it, you say –”

“Get yer hands offa me, asshole!” recites Meredith happily, swinging her legs out again. They’ve been over this many _many_ times, Meredith knows. “But that means I don’t gots these hots for ‘em.”

“Eeg-zackly,” says Uncle Rocket. “Wrench – other wrench, with the glowing thingie.”

Meredith hands him the wrench and frowns.

“But why’d anyone give special touches to someone that wasn’t special to ‘em?”

Uncle Rocket hums a couple bars of _Dancing Queen_ – one of Meredith’s _favorite_ whole songs – and clicks a gear into place.

“People are jerk-offs, Pip. Trust me.”

“Has that happened to you?”

Uncle Rocket freezes, the Thingie held up between his paws, ears suddenly flat against his head. The engine room’s still whirring, like it usually does, and he only freezes for a little second, not even a _big_ second, but. Meredith bites her lip, and hugs her purple battery to her chest.

“Uncle Ro Ro?”

He shakes his head, sudden and small so it also shakes his shoulders, and then he looks up at her and gives a lopsided grin.

“Nah. Heard it from others, though. It ever happens to you, youse just yell _real_ loud an’ me ‘n Groot’ll come and kick their asses to the next quadrant.”

“Thank you,” says Meredith, holding up her battery again and shaking it. The bubbly purple liquid moves up and down, making a funny _bloomp_ noise as it goes. “I’ll kick assets for you, too, when Mama says I’m big ‘nuf to.”

Uncle Rocket doesn’t look up from his Thingie, this time, but Meredith can see his whiskers twitch as he grins, so Meredith grins, too. She’s okay with not playing hide and seek tonight, she decides, just ‘cause hanging out with Uncle Rocket’s so fun.

**

“See, that’s you – and that’s Uncle Ro Ro and Groot, and over here’s Mama and Daddy.”

Aunt Nebula frowns, her big dark eyes looking like they’re trying to see right through Meredith’s drawing. Meredith doesn’t take it personally, ‘cause she knows that’s just what Aunt Nebula’s face looks like.

“D’you wanna help me colour it in?” 

Aunt Nebula makes a funny noise, like she’s choking on her own tongue. Meredith’s not too worried, ‘cause Aunt Nebula’s probably invincible or something and so she can’t get hurt by her own _tongue_ , and so Meredith smiles at her.

“No,” says Aunt Nebula. 

“That’s okay,” says Meredith, looking back down at her drawing and pulling out the rest of her markers. “I’ll just colour it in and you c’n watch. Hey, d’you think I should use the _big_ blue marker or the littler blue marker?”

“They are both blue,” says Aunt Nebula. “I don’t see a difference.”

“One’s _littler_ ,” says Meredith, trying hard not to sound like that’s _obvious_ , ‘cause that’d be rude and she knows that sometimes Aunt Nebula doesn’t get these things and Mama says that that’s okay, that’s just who she is. “Anyways, maybe I should just use the purple thingie.”

“I,” says Aunt Nebula, “still don’t see a difference.”

“Mmm,” says Meredith seriously, sticking out her tongue with concentration as she starts to colour in their faces. 

Aunt Nebula’s here visiting, like she does sometimes, ‘cause she’s Mama’s sister and according to Mama that’s what siblings do when they don’t live in the same place. Meredith still doesn’t understand why Aunt Nebula doesn’t just _live_ with them then, ‘cause the whole rest of their family does, all there on their one big ship, but Mama says that sometimes people need to live by themselves.

“She’s not by herself, though,” says Meredith. “She’s with Mister Kraglin an’ his crew ‘cause they’re friends. I know so ‘cause he told me last time they go on ‘ventures together and he gave her her cool hat.”

“But that ship has a lot more room than this ship,” Mama says, “so she can be alone when she wants to be. And you know, sometimes friends are easier to live with than family.”

Meredith’s always thought that that’s an _especially_ confusing thought, but if Mama says so, then it must be at least a little bit true. 

Meredith likes Aunt Nebula, even though she looks mad a lot and doesn’t like to colour with her. She doesn’t smile much, but when she does it’s so _so_ nice, and Meredith thinks that her bionic hand is the most wizard thing in the world. Last time she visited, she actually let Meredith look inside it, which was doubly as wizard. 

Meredith couldn’t stop talking about it for a whole week.

But it’s been a really long time since the last time they saw her, like a whole two years. Meredith’s almost tall enough to see over the kitchen table now, which she wasn’t the last time Aunt Nebula was here, and she can brush her teeth all on her own, too.

She tells Aunt Nebula this, ‘cause she wasn’t there to see it all happen and Meredith knows that you’re supposed to tell people things about yourself if you’re _maintaining a relationship_ with ‘em.

That’s what Daddy says, anyway.

“Hey, you two,” says Mama’s voice, as she ducks into the kitchen holding her datapad in her hand, dropping it gently onto the table before she kneels down to peer into the cooling unit. “What are you up to?”

“I’m drawing a picture,” Meredith tells her, not looking up from her meticulous colouring job.

“I want to see it when it’s finished,” Mama says.

“These jobs are all useless,” says Aunt Nebula, ignoring Mama’s question and pulling the pad towards her. “Gamora. A recon op?”

“It pays the bills,” says Mama.

“For an _Askavariaan_?”

“Bills,” says Mama again, emerging from the fridge and sliding a bowl of pink fruit onto the table. “How’s your life going, sister?”

“Fine,” grunts Aunt Nebula. “You can’t be seriously considering this garbage.”

Mama sighs, the sort of sigh she gives when she’s not sure what else to say, and Meredith moves from colouring with the blue marker to the yellow one, for the sky.

“There aren’t any mid-risk ones right now. Anything higher up on the radar and it’s –”

She stops talking, which makes Meredith look up from her drawing. Mama and Aunt Nebula are both looking at her when she does, and Mama smiles at her softly, but Aunt Nebula’s eyes quickly flick up to glare at the light fixtures in the ceiling. 

“It’s what, Mama?”

“It’s nothing, _meya_. Mama didn’t know where she was going with that sentence.”

“You mean like a goof,” says Meredith, grinning, ‘cause that’s what Daddy calls it sometimes, when you start a sentence but you’re not sure where it’s going. 

“Exactly,” says Mama, leaning in and quirking a little special smile just for her. “Just like that. A big goof. Mer, can I ask you something?”

“Yes Mama,” says Meredith, who is already back to colouring in the big yellow sky of her family portrait. She was gonna make it green, but the green marker runs outta ink if you colour with it too much at once and so doesn’t have the _stamina_ to colour in skies. Meredith stops in her colouring, wondering how she’s gonna remember to ask for a new green marker; if she draws a line over her skin like she originally thought would be a good reminder, then she won’t be able to _see_ it proper, ‘cause her skin’s green _too_. Meredith frowns at her yellow sky, but continues colouring.

“Mer, can you do something for me? Can you go get Mama’s favorite knife from the cockpit so that I can peel this fruit?”

Meredith quickly squiggles ink over the last corner of the sky, her tongue poking out, and stands up in her chair.

“Mer,” says Mama.

“Uhuh,” says Meredith, dropping her marker onto the table and throwing her hands up into the air. “All done! Gonna get your favorite knife now. Mama, can I get a new green marker?”

“I’ll ask your father to grab it next time we stop at a commerce doc,” says Mama. “Go on, little one. It’s in the cockpit by the accelerator.”

“Okay!” says Meredith, and bounces down from her chair, running out of the kitchen. 

The trip from the kitchen to the cockpit is not that far, and Meredith rushes past the viewport, and her and Groot’s favorite hiding spot behind the cargo hatch, and her parents’ room where she knows Daddy’s left his Zune. No time for distractions right now, Meredith knows. She’s gotta get Mama’s favorite knife, ‘cause Mama wants to peel the pink fruits and Meredith is working on being _responsible_. She yells a hello to Uncle Rocket when she patters past his room – he’s sitting on the floor tinkering, and the door’s wide open and he hollers hello back – and by the time Meredith’s gotten to the cockpit, she feels like the jitterbug from one of Daddy’s songs. 

“Dunuh nuh, duh-nuh-nuh-nuh,” hums Meredith happily, clambering up her favorite footholds up into the right-most pilot’s chair so that she can grab the handle of Mama’s knife. “Wake me up ‘fore you go-go-go-go-go.” 

The knife’s smooth in Meredith’s little hands. Its handle is what Mama calls _retractable_ , which means it oughta be safe, mostly, but Meredith’s still not supposed to run with it. She wonders how she’s gonna get rid of her jitterbug if she can’t keep running, and then stops, and grins at the back of the cockpit.

The walk back to the kitchen is much slower, which Meredith insists is ‘cause she’s being responsible with the knife, but mostly is actually ‘cause she tugged Daddy’s big leather duster off the back of the pilot’s chair and is currently wearing it like a cape.

Meredith feels very adult, hopping over every alternate walkway panel on her way to the kitchen, dragging her heavy cape behind her, cause if she misses and steps on the wrong ones the rainbow lava on the floor’s gonna swallow her all up. And anyways, the bad guys in front of her have _monster flower guns!_

“You’re never gonna catch me!” Meredith tells them, stepping carefully to the next safe panel, “‘cause I’m bein’ ‘ _sponsible_. An’ I’ve got my forcefield coat on! Pew! Pew pew _pew_ –”

Meredith hops her next two steps, holding the knife far out in front of her in case she accidentally trips or something, and wonders if Aunt Nebula will play bad guys and rainbow heroes with her if she asks nicely. Aunt Nebula looked even grumpier than usual right before Meredith left, which was maybe ‘cause she didn’t know the difference between Meredith’s markers – or maybe ‘cause Meredith was colouring the sky yellow even though it _oughta_ have been green, ‘cause that bummed Meredith out too. Meredith is about to slide open the hatch to the kitchen, which is mostly-closed now for some reason, but then she has to stop and tug her coat a little bit so that it won’t drag into the rainbow lava.

“– iot’s still limping, for God’s sake,” says Aunt Nebula’s voice, low and hard in a way that Meredith doesn’t think she’s actually ever heard it. “Which is ridiculous considering everything you’ve been through, so either you’ve lost your edge, or –”

“We haven’t lost our _edge_ , Nebula, it was just a more risky job than we usually –” 

“Look me in the eye and tell me whether or not any of you morons have _any_ clue how to raise that little girl.”

There’s a small pause. Meredith clutches the hem of Daddy’s jacket in her hands and doesn’t move. From inside the kitchen, she can’t even hear the soft squeak of leather anymore, like everyone’s sitting totally still. No jitterbugs at all.

“And you do?” comes Mama’s voice, and something about how cold and hard and low it is makes Meredith’s tummy feel uneasy.

“No, of course not,” scoffs Aunt Nebula. “Don’t be stupid. I’m just saying. All of us come from some pretty screwed up places. You should have thought this through _before_ you had –”

“You know that wasn’t on purpose. You _know_ I thought I couldn’t –”

“Yes, I know, I’m the first person who ever _knew_ , idiot –”

“So –”

“I got your knife!” Meredith pushes the sliding door full open and runs into the room, her coat slipping off the crown of her head and hanging sideways on one shoulder, heavy and dragging behind her. “I got your knife, Mama, it’s here and I got it and I didn’t run the _whole_ way ‘cept for just now ‘cause you told me to – to be ‘sponsible, and –”

Meredith’s mouth is working faster than her brain, and she doesn’t know where she’s going with the rest of that sentence. A class A _goof_ , right there, Meredith thinks, holding the knife straight out so that Mama can see it and smile and start peeling the pink fruit, and not talk to Aunt Nebula in that low mad voice anymore.

Mama blinks, like Meredith’s startled her, but before Meredith can open her mouth and confess to the fact that she’s just goofed, Mama’s face goes soft again.

Which is good, thinks Meredith. It’s _good_ – this is her favorite kind of Mama.

“Thank you, _meya_ ,” says Mama, taking the knife from Meredith’s little hands with her big ones and leaning over to press a kiss on Meredith’s forehead. “I’m glad you listen to your Mama.”

Meredith smiles, and pulls a little at Daddys’ coat so it sits properly over her head again. The sleeves twitch against the floor, and Meredith can see the little quirk in Mama’s mouth when she raises her eyebrows at Meredith’s new cape. 

“Did he leave it hanging on the pilot’s chair again?”

“Uhuh,” says Meredith, nodding. “It made me ‘vincible on my way back here, Mama, ‘cause I couldn’t do super speed with it on and so the knife was _safe_.”

“Mmm,” says Mama, smiling again, and reaching forward to grab the topmost fruit in the bowl. “You should tell him – he’ll be happy you were being so responsible.”

For some weird reason Meredith doesn’t understand, Aunt Nebula makes a funny scoffing noise on the other side of the table, like she’s got something stuck in her nose. Mama doesn’t turn to look at her, so Meredith figures she must be fine. But then, Mama’s shoulders have gone all tight.

“Can I have some fruit first Mama?”

“Of course,” says Mama, peeling away the hard pink rind in one smooth motion. “Have you asked Nebula if she wants some, too?”

“I’m fine,” says Aunt Nebula, abruptly, before Meredith can say sorry for forgetting to ask. She stands up, her hands tight in fists like Meredith sometimes does with _her_ hands when she’s excited, but after a second Aunt Nebula’s unfurl, and she does a funny motion with her head, like she’s not sure if she wants to turn away or not. She looks at the ground, frowning again. “I mean – it’s okay, kid. Thanks for thinking of me.”

“You’re welcome,” Meredith tells her sincerely.

“Anyway – I’m gonna go – somewhere else.” She hesitates again before leaving, throwing a glance back at Mama, who is focusing very intently on peeling Meredith’s fruit. “Just think about what I said.”

Mama peels another strip of rind away, and Meredith watches with big eyes.

“Gamora.” Aunt Nebula’s voice is still quiet, a tight sort of quiet that makes Meredith thinks she’s trying _real_ hard to keep it that way. 

“Why?” says Mama, still looking at the fruit. “It makes no difference now, apparently.”

“Ugh, for –” Aunt Nebula huffs and rolls her eyes, finally swivelling and pushing out of the kitchen, her stompy robot walk making loud sounds where her feet slam into the ship’s floor panels.

Meredith stares after her, her red marker held forgotten in her fist. Mama continues to peel the fruit, only instead of the big, grown up motions of before, her hands are making small jerking motions and getting bits of rind everywhere. Mama’s long hair, pink at the ends where Meredith’s is purple, has fallen into her face a bit, but she doesn’t move to push it away. Meredith wonders if it’s ‘cause her hands are all sticky. She tugs Daddy’s jacket closer around her shoulders and grips her red marker tightly before taking another few steps forward, so that she’s standing directly under her mother’s elbow.

“Mama, why is Aunt Nebula mad?”

Mama stops peeling, and Meredith knows that Mama is the prettiest strongest person in the galaxy, always tall and cool and moving like she knows her way around the whole room. Except right now, she’s sitting with her shoulders drooping, and Meredith thinks that’s real strange, ‘cause Mama’s the one always telling her she should have good, strong posture.

“Mama?”

Mama reaches down and picks Meredith up, coat cape and all – there, Meredith thinks, she _said_ Mama was the strongest, didn’t she – and wraps her arms tightly around Meredith, so tight that Meredith has to try really hard not to squirm.

“She’s not mad, _meya_.”

“She seemed mad,” Meredith insists, ‘cause if she’s mad then that means they’ve gotta help her be un-mad. “Madder’n usual, I mean.” Meredith prods Mama’s chest. “Did you do something wrong?”

Sometimes, Meredith knows, you can accidentally do something wrong to make someone mad.

Mama is quiet for a long moment, before she says, 

“No, baby.”

“Did _I_ do somethin’ wrong?”

Mama looks at Meredith, suddenly, her big brown eyes wide. The silver on her cheeks and forehead shimmers, now that Meredith’s so up close. Meredith doesn’t have the same silver on her cheeks and forehead, and she wonders if it’s something she’s gonna get when she gets all big and grown up.

“ _No_ ,” says Mama. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Not one thing.”

“Oh,” says Meredith. “Okay.”

She lets Mama pull her closer, not minding Mama’s sticky fingers in her hair, which is a lot shorter than Mama’s. Meredith takes a big breath, and lets her cheek squish against Mama’s neck. Mama isn’t saying anything else, which isn’t _wholly_ not normal, ‘cause Mama doesn’t usually talk a whole extra lot like Daddy or Uncle Rocket do, only the mood in the room’s a bit weird and Meredith likes it when they can chase weird moods away with talking ‘bout things.

“Sometimes you can’t control everything,” says Mama, after a moment, in a quiet, soft voice. “Even though you try your best. That’s what Aunt Nebula was upset about.”

“Like how I didn’t have a green marker to colour in my sky with,” says Meredith into her mother’s collarbone, looking at their bowl of half-peeled pink fruit. “Even though I worked real hard on the drawing.”

“Yes,” says Mama. “A little bit like that.”

**

“Can we go see the glowing purple frogs, Daddy?”

“Mmm, I dunno Mer – Mantis, we got anything else on the list? Whup – one, two, three, jump!”

Meredith jumps, and giggles with glee as she swings through the air over the big puddle under her, one hand held in Daddy’s big one and the other in Aunt Mantis’s soft one. She drops down to the ground again and skips her next few steps, turning to look at Aunt Mantis expectantly.

“Hmmmmm,” says Aunt Mantis seriously, wrinkling up her nose at a long list of items that Meredith knows was written on one of Daddy’s old t-shirts, ‘cause she helped Mama write it. They had to improvise with old shirts and stuff, ‘cause their pad was broke, Meredith guessed. “New pad” was one of the things on the shirt list. “We still have five items left, and two are on different sides of the bazaar.”

“Aww, Aunty Manty –”

“You heard her, kid,” says Daddy, tugging a bit on her hand again, just enough so Meredith giggles. “What’d we tell mom, huh?”

Meredith sighs a big big heaving sigh to convey the true breadth of her emotions.

“Gonna get _all_ the big ‘portant stuff first, ‘n _then_ we can go play if we have time.”

“You got it,” says Daddy, and then grins. “‘Nother one comin’ up, Mer, one two three –”

“Jump!” yells Meredith for him, and jumps her biggest jump yet, soaring through air to the pretty sound of Aunt Mantis’s laughter.

“Oh, Mer, you are getting very good at jumping,” says Aunt Mantis, her cheeks dimpling. “Maybe when we get to the purple frogs, you can teach them some things.”

“Yay!” says Meredith, “Yay yay! Gonna teach the frogs!” 

Uncle Drax always says that it’s important to teach other folks stuff that you know better than them. Meredith is excited to experience this first-hand.

The air on Enta Nublar’s moon is a little bit too muggy for Meredith’s liking, making the hair of her fringe stick to her forehead in a yucky sort of way, but the rest of the place is colourful and noisy and cool enough for Meredith to forgive the air its transgressions. They’ve been here once before, a little over a year ago when Meredith was still only four years old and a little kid. Now she’s a big kid, and they’re here again ‘cause they happened to be in the neighborhood and Daddy says Nublar Three’s got the biggest trading market this side of the quantum asteroid belt, and they gotta stock up on supplies.

Meredith blinks a strand of her sticky hair out of her eyes and continues to skip between Daddy and Aunt Mantis, looking up through the merchant stall canopies at the deep purple sky above them. She wonders if this sky has feelings, too, and if it’s all dark and purple ‘cause there’s so much artificial light glowing yellow and warm through the market and that’s sorta hurting its feelings. Around her, she can hear all sorts of weird chatter through her implanted translator, and Meredith grins; she loves hearing all the different funny voices at once, kind like a really out of tune song.

Daddy’s songs are better to dance to, but Meredith thinks that traders’ voices yelling lots of different things is more interesting to listen to. 

Meredith skips another two steps, running a little bit to keep up with her father’s long legs and tugging at Aunt Mantis’s hand as she goes. The heavy hem of Daddy’s coat sways as he goes, swinging back and forth lightly along with Meredith’s hand. Daddy stopped walking funny a couple weeks ago, finally, which is good because it meant Meredith could play tag with him around the ship for whole hours at a time, instead of just small ten minute bits. According to him, the mean thing the bad guys did to his leg was all healed up, but he’s still going at a slower pace than he usually does. This means that Meredith can walk alongside him for a whole _hour_ without getting tired and having to be picked up and perched on his shoulders.

“Daddy, what if Mister Neygar doesn’t got the parts we need?”

Daddy swings Meredith’s hand in his and looks down at her with a raised eyebrow.

“What’s got you thinkin’ like that, green bean?”

“Well,” says Meredith, “Uncle Ro Ro said he’s a no-good double crosser ‘n he might not hold up on his _deal_.” Meredith doesn’t know exactly what that means, but she’s a little worried now about properly acquiring her greatly needed green marker.

Daddy chuckles lightly, his bright and happy chuckle which Meredith loves a whole lot, while Aunt Mantis smiles again.

“Naw,” says Daddy, playfully tugging at her hand again. “He might be a slimeball, but he’s got nothing on your old dad.”

“You mean you’re a slimeball too?” asks Meredith.

Daddy busts full out laughing this time, reaching over with his other hand to ruffle Meredith’s hair roughly. “No, you little goofball.”

“He means he can talk sweetly at him,” offers Aunt Mantis, looking down at Meredith and twitching her antennae like she does when she’s having a good time. Meredith’s glad she’s having a good time. 

“Sweet talk him,” corrects Daddy, “means I can bargain, pull a good deal out of him before he’s got the chance to play us. And anyway, Mantis over here’s the best born lie-detector I’ve met.”

Aunt Mantis smiles even bigger than before, which makes her face look a little funny, but Meredith giggles, ‘cause Aunt Mantis’s smiles are contagious, even if they _are_ kinda silly looking. 

“I am just doing my best to help,” she says, letting Meredith swing her arm out wide.

“And we love you for it, Mantis,” says Daddy cheerfully, pulling Meredith up over an old spare ship part that’s strewn in the middle of the street with one arm. Daddy’s told Meredith for as long as she can remember that if you’re happy someone’s around, you should tell ‘em as much as you can, so that you’re sure they _know_. Meredith makes a point to tell everything she cares about that she cares, including sometimes the flowers they found that one time on Berhert and even Daddy’s Zune. Daddy smiles when she does this, a tiny crinkly-eyed one that Meredith can’t quite figure out but that makes her feel warm and happy inside. 

“But y’know,” says Daddy now, adjusting their knapsack higher over his shoulder with his free hand. “Pay close attention when we get there, okay Mer-Bear? Learn a little somethin’ from your old dad. Best start these things early.”

“So then,” says Meredith, skipping a little again to keep up, “so then I can talk sweet too?”

“You got it, baby.” Daddy grins down at her, that same special grin that only Meredith gets to see. “Folks used to say I could talk the skin off a cat. I’ll bet you can do even better than that.”

“What’s a cat?” asks Meredith, at the same time Aunt Mantis says, “Why are we talking its skin off?”

Daddy makes a face, which is real funny looking, so Meredith giggles. Sometimes, Meredith knows, Daddy’ll say things that people don’t really make a whole lotta sense. That’s why Uncle Drax tells her she’s supposed to try to make more sense than Daddy when _she_ talks (that’s the _rule_ ), but Meredith kinda likes it when Daddy explains what he’s saying to her. It makes her feel all grown up, and Daddy always talks to her like she’s super smart.

“It’s an expression, guys. Means you’re really good with your words.”

“Oh,” says Meredith. “That’s okay then. Daddy, can we go see a cat?”

“Not today, sweet pea.”

Meredith hums in assent, even if that is a bit of a bummer, and turns up again to look at the sky. She figures they’ll just go see the glowing frogs instead, which is more than enough excitement for one day. _And_ she’s gonna learn how to talk sweet. She’ll have to tell Mama and Uncle Rocket all about it when they get back to the ship, thinks Meredith. 

Meredith sees the little animal in front of them before Daddy or Aunt Mantis do, tied up to a post outside of a vendor’s stall with sparkly orange twine.

“Puppy!” cries Meredith in delight, and immediately pulls forward to run over and pet it.

“Woah, there,” says Daddy, tightening his grip on her hand very slightly, but he lets her pull him and Aunt Mantis forward to where the little dog thing is curled up on its side, whimpering. 

“Hi, puppy!” says Meredith, only when she tries to reach out and touch it, Daddy keeps his hold on her hand tight and firm, and Aunt Mantis says a soft, “Oh, no”. The puppy shakes a little bit and whimpers again. “Daddy,” says Meredith slowly. “Why does the puppy look not happy?”

Aunt Mantis slips her gloved hand out of Meredith’s before kneeling down onto the ground and pulling her other glove off; in front of her, the puppy lifts his head just a little bit, and Meredith finally gets a real good look at it. His feathers are covered in something dried and sticky in a couple patches, sticking to his skin, and there’s some sorta goopy thing coming out of his eyes, like he’s _crying_. Meredith tugs on Daddy’s hand again, urgently.

“Daddy? _Daddy_ , the puppy’s _crying_!”

“He is in pain,” says Aunt Mantis, in her soft, gentle voice. “And he is hungry. I can help him a little bit, I think.”

“Owner must’ve left him,” mutters Daddy, his eyebrows creased in a soft frown as he looks down at the puppy with Meredith. “Asshole.” 

Meredith watches as Aunt Mantis very, _very_ gently reaches out and touches the puppy’s back with the tips of her fingers; immediately, he stops quivering and closes his goopy eyes. Meredith thinks he almost looks like he’s smiling. 

“Should I give him some of my sandwich?” asks Meredith, tugging at Daddy’s hand again. He’s got a spare sandwich in his knapsack in case she gets hungry, Meredith knows. Uncle Drax always makes her an extra sandwich to take with her when she goes on trips off the ship.

“He’ll be okay,” says Daddy, pausing for a moment, like he’s thinking before he speaks ( _that_ , says Mama, is a very important thing to learn), before squeezing her hand gently. “Manty’s helping out, see?”

“I think he just needed to sleep a bit,” says Aunt Mantis softly, her antennae glowing. “And we may be able to find a street vendor who will help to clean hi –”

“HEY! YOU GIT THE HELL AWAY FROM MY STALL!”

Meredith barely has the time to jump in suprise at the _loud_ loud sound before Daddy’s pulled her by the arm, pushing her behind him. Meredith’s feet splash into the puddle she just jumped over a couple minutes ago, the water coming up to her shins and slowly starting to seep into her shoes. Beside them, Aunt Mantis has whirled around to face the owner of the loud mean voice, her fingers still touching the puppy. Meredith keeps her hand that isn’t still held in Daddy’s at her side, ‘cause everyone always says that in _sticky sitchashuns_ she’ll only get under Daddy’s feet if she grabs his coat tails like she wants to, and watches around his leg as a large, silver lady person stomps her way over to them. Three of her four hands are wiping themselves on the dirty dirty apron hanging from her thick neck, while the last one points a blaster directly at Aunt Mantis.

Meredith takes a big deep breath and counts to ten, like Mama has taught her to do, and tries to stand as tall as she can. Tall people like Daddy and Uncle Drax and Mama and Groot are very brave, Meredith knows. Not tall people can also be brave – Uncle Rocket, for example – so Meredith thinks that she doesn’t have to worry _too_ much about only coming up to above Daddy’s knees, but still – she should probably try her best. If she’s just as brave as Daddy is, then maybe the big silver lady will go away. She looks and sounds very mean, and Meredith doesn’t like mean people much, especially if those mean people leave their puppies all alone like this and the puppies start _crying_.

“Oh, no,” says Aunt Mantis, “we were just –”

“I don’t have nothing to do with your kind, you heathen!” Silver Lady’s little ear nubs are quivering. Meredith doesn’t really know what that means, but she can’t bring herself to laugh about it ‘cause Aunt Mantis’s eyes are so big right now and the puppy has started to cry again. “GIT AWAY! Go on, our I’ll kill you right here meself –”

“Woah, _woah_ , hey –” says Daddy in a loud voice, side stepping closer to Aunt Mantis. Meredith’s further hidden behind his legs, now, but he’s still holding her hand behind his back. Meredith knows that’s ‘cause if something goes wrong he can swing her up into his arms and run real quick, before anyone can pull any blasters, only this time Silver Lady and her four arms’ve _already_ pulled blasters and Meredith just wants to explain that they were helping the crying puppy.

“SHE DEVIL!” yells Silver Lady. “WORKED MY WHOLE FAMILY TO DEATH, YOUR KIND DID!”

“Dude!” yells Daddy, in his I’m The Captain And I’m In Charge Voice. Meredith knows he only uses that voice when things are a _real_ big mess, ‘cause mostly he’s not really the only person in charge, even though technically he is the captain. That’s what Daddy says, anyway. Meredith takes a little step back; her shoes squish, because of the puddle water, and it makes her shoulders go all tight.

“I do not understan –” starts Aunt Mantis, except then Silver Lady holds her blaster up higher and Meredith’s free hand is coming up to cover her ears ‘cause this is _scary_ and she doesn’t understand what Silver Lady is _saying_ when Daddy takes two big steps and gets between Silver Lady’s blaster and Aunt Mantis and the puppy, pulling Meredith along so she stays behind him. It’s hard to keep her hand over both her ears at the same time, and even harder when she’s being pulled around.

“GIT OUTTA MY WAY!” she roars in Daddy’s face, so loudly that his bangs flop upwards, just a little bit. Daddy doesn’t move, but raises one hand up so that it’s hovering by his ear, and holds Silver Lady’s gaze. Meredith presses her splayed fingers harder over her left ear and peaks out from behind his leg.

“Dude,” says Daddy again, more quietly this time but still in that Voice, hand steady in the air. Behind him, his grip on Meredith’s hand loosens, and Meredith watches, wide-eyed and breathing hard like she’s been playing tag all morning, as he slowly moves his right hand back around his side, to hover over his leg. “She’s done jack-shit wrong. You want us to leave your dog thing alone, fine, whatever. Just – put the blaster down, please.”

Silver Lady leans in so that she’s right up in Daddy’s face, real close, so that Daddy has to be looking up at her.

She’s _real_ tall, Meredith thinks. Her arm’s starting to hurt from being so tense, so much that it’s shaking just a little bit.

“This got nothin’ to do with you, humie!” she snarls, her voice still obnoxiously loud. Not nice loud like Uncle Drax, but really big and scary loud, like nothing Meredith’s heard before. 

“Listen, lady,” says Daddy, glaring up at her. “You got a problem with my sister, you got a problem with me. Put the gun down and we’ll get outta your –” He pauses, and makes a face. “– life? Stall? I dunno, you don’t have any hair – whatever, I mean, we’ll leave!” 

He says that last bit really fast, all in one breath with his eyes widening a little as Silver Lady moves the blaster to point under Daddy’s chin, now. Without thinking about it, both of Meredith’s hands reach out and grab ahold of Daddy’s coat, so tight that she can hear the leather squeak under her fingers.

“It’s okay, Meredith,” Meredith whispers in her smallest whisper voice, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Empaths’re hell’s own spawn,” says Silver Lady. Meredith turns around to see Aunt Mantis flinch, antennae curling in on themselves, her shoulders small and tight. The puppy’s started whimpering again.

“Not this one,” says Daddy, and lets his hand curl around the blaster strapped to his leg. Daddy’s blasters, Meredith knows, are pretty big and fancy – not like the little thing Silver Lady’s holding.

Silver Lady seems to see this too, which Meredith thinks makes sense considering she’s got three eyes, but she still doesn’t lower her blaster.

“Move,” says Silver Lady.

“No,” says Daddy.

The moment stretches out, long and weird and scary. Meredith holds onto Daddy’s coat tails and wishes Uncle Rocket were here, ‘cause then he could kick Silver Lady in the knee or something, and she’d drop her blaster and hop up and down and it’d be _funny_ and not scary like it is now.

Finally, Silver Lady says,

“Git away from my stall. I see you here again, I kill you.”

“Sure,” says Daddy. Taking one very slow step back. “Sure, we’re leaving. Very slowly. You should probably take more care of your dog thing, though.”

And then he whirls around, yanks Meredith to his chest, and runs. 

Meredith doesn’t like running much when she’s scared, even when she’s tucked up real tight against Daddy’s chest. She can hear Aunt Mantis making small noises beside them as they run, and the shouts of people buying stuff and selling stuff that are moving out of their way. Her face is all pressed up against the top of Daddy’s chest, and she can hear him breathing, hard and fast like folks always do when they run. Meredith wonders if she’s hearing everything so much and so loud ‘cause her eyes are all squeezed shut, and presses her cheek harder against Daddy’s shirt.

She only opens them once they finally stop.

“God, okay,” says Daddy, his words all gasping and short, “okay – everyone’s safe? No – no one got – shot by a crazy lady with four arms?”

His hair’s still sticking up a bit funny and his eyes, green just like Meredith’s, are looking right at Meredith like she’s supposed to give an answer, like she’s supposed to not be scared and upset and feel weird in her tummy. Meredith thinks of the sick puppy and the way Silver Lady’s face twisted with anger and fear, and how Daddy’s looking at her all open and soft and like he’s gonna keep her safe from everything in the whole galaxy.

Meredith starts crying.

“Oh – _oh_ , Mer – baby, it’s okay, c’mere, I gotcha. I gotcha, Daddy’s gotcha. It’s okay, you’re okay. We’re all okay, baby girl.”

Meredith presses her face against Daddy’s shoulder again, feels his hands come up to hold the back of her head. She doesn’t move, squeezing her eyes shut to the world, ‘cause somehow it feels like it’s safer like that, like if Meredith can’t see all the loud-loud merchants around them, none of them can see Meredith. She feels like every time she breathes it’s a gasp, like a pair of invisible hands has taken her shoulders and is shaking them. Her cheeks are wet and hot and she wants to go _home,_ only she can’t stop thinking of how scary and mean the lady was and how sad the puppy looked, and Meredith’s tummy is feeling all upset and scared from everything that’s happened. 

From somewhere behind her, she can hear Aunt Mantis sniffling. Meredith doesn’t know if she should listen to that or the merchants’ voices, so she scrunches up her shoulders and presses herself up harder against Daddy, letting the shaky tears fall out of her one by one.

“Alright,” says Daddy’s voice in her ear, soft and sing-song like he’s gonna start singing along to one of his songs. “Alright. Shhh, shhhh. Hey, Mer-Bear, hey – you wanna sing a song with dad? You wanna help me sing?”

Meredith shakes her head no against Daddy’s neck, her nose smushing against his jacket collar. Daddy huffs out a funny sound sort of like a laugh and says,

“Well, guess I best just do it myself, then, huh? _Oo-ooh child,”_ he starts swaying side-to-side, like he’s gonna start dancing, _“oo-ooh child, things’re gonna get peasier, oo-ooh child_ – you love this one, c’mon!”

“Uh- _uh_ ,” says Meredith, the last word coming out on a gasp as she shakes her head again, once, then twice.

“ _So-ome day!_ ” sings Daddy, his voice going wobbly on the last note. “ _La la la la_.”

Meredith sniffs, a couple times, and then opens her eyes.

“You’re s-singin’ th’song – wrong, Daddy,” she says.

“‘S ‘cause I need your help, bean,” says Daddy, bouncing Meredith a little in his arms. “C’mon now. You gonna look up from my shoulder?”

Meredith frowns into Daddy’s shirt. 

“But y-you _always_ s-sing that song when I’m ‘set, Daddy. How’re you – messing it up.”

“ _La la la la_ ,” sings Daddy, loudly.

“Dad- _dy_ ,” says Meredith, finally looking up, only to catch Daddy wink at her right before he bounces her one more time and presses a great big smacking kiss to Meredith’s cheek, before she can say anything else.

Those, Meredith knows, are Meredith’s favorite kinds of kisses.

“There’s my big brave girl,” says Daddy now, still swaying a bit to the invisible tune of the song he was singing _so_ wrong. Meredith thinks that she’ll have to play it for him when they get home, just to show him how wrong he was, and sniffs one last time, bringing her hand up to wipe at her nose. “Aw, Mer – gross, c’mon, use your sleeve like I taught you to.”

Meredith frowns again, and looks at him, and then turns to look at Aunt Mantis, whose antennae are still quivering. Meredith feels her tummy drop again when she realizes that Aunt Mantis’s eyes are also filled with tears; she was so upset that she didn’t stop to ask Aunt Mantis if she was upset too. The Silver Lady was being mean to _her_ , after all.

Meredith feels her eyes fill up again.

“Daddy, w-we left the puppy.”

“Oh, no –” starts Daddy, but he doesn’t get much farther than that, his hand stilling against Meredith’s cheek where he’s wiping away her crying ‘cause Aunt Mantis steps forward.

“I am sorry,” whispers Aunt Mantis, who is holding onto her side, her lip trembling. Meredith wonders if it’s gone all tight and twitchy like sides can sometimes do when you run too much, or if it’s ‘cause she got hurt by the mean lady. Without meaning to, Meredith’s hands curl up even tighter in Daddy’s shirt. “I should not have –”

“ _No_ ,” says Daddy, shaking his head. “C’mon, Mantis, don’t you start cryin’ too, now you’re gonna get Mer going again – c’mon. Mantis. You’ve never even existed in the same _space_ as people like you, let alone – whatever the hell _she_ was saying.”

Meredith takes another big gasping breath and tries to blink away her leftover crying as Aunt Mantis shakes her head _no_ , so hard that her antennae shake back and forth.

“Mantis –” starts Daddy, his head tilting back, the word coming out half a sigh.

“I have used my powers for not-good things,” she says, still in that quiet wobbly voice, only now, there is a note of something tired and solid there – nothing bright and energetic and bubbly like Meredith knows Aunt Mantis usually is. “Peter, you know this.”

“No,” says Daddy again, louder this time. Meredith can feel his arm tense under her butt. “ _No_. That wasn’t your fault. And it sure as hell wasn’t any time recent.”

Meredith knows that Aunt Mantis, kind of like Mama and Daddy and even Aunt Nebula, doesn’t know her own Mama and Daddy ‘cause a bad man came and took her from them when she was a baby, even smaller than Meredith. Meredith’s always thought that must be an awful scary thing to happen to you, ‘specially if you don’t end up on a ship with cool people like Mister Kraglin. At least, that’s what Meredith thinks, ‘cause Daddy hasn’t really told her much more than that and Meredith’s always thought Mister Kraglin is awful nice. 

Right now, Meredith wonders if this has something to do with why Silver Lady was being so mean. Daddy and Aunt Mantis are talking about thinks Meredith doesn’t understand, and Meredith wishes they’d both start singing _Ooh Child_ again, even if they’re singing it wrong.

“Peter,” says Aunt Mantis, still quiet. She sniffs, but she doesn’t start crying like Meredith did, probably ‘cause she’s a grown up, Meredith thinks. “She was correct to be scared. She does not know me like you do. I do not know other empaths. It is –”

“No way,” says Daddy. “You – we’ve talked about this, come _on_! Of all of us, you’ve got the least baggage – probably the least crap to feel bad about. Just ‘cause some – some _clearly_ distressed woman in the ass end of Nublar Three thought you were a mass-subjugator – or something – _God_ , Mantis –”

Daddy stops talking, his words sorta fading out as he frowns, hard, and looks up at the purple sky above them, and then back down to the ground. Meredith makes that funny hiccupping sound people do after they cry a couple times, and then reaches out and touches Daddy’s cheek softly, like she’s sometimes seen Mama do when he’s upset. Only instead of touching his cheek Meredith can’t reach the whole way and her hand rests against his chin instead; his beard feels funny and scratchy against her hand, like it always does.

“Daddy?”

“Hey, kiddo,” says Daddy, his voice a whole lot quieter now. He looks down at her, smiling a small kind of smile. “Sorry – sorry. We’re all safe now, okay? Are you feeling safe?”

Meredith takes a big breath, ‘cause she’s brave and smart and strong like Mama, and nods.

“I’m sorry ‘bout the puppy, Mer,” says Daddy. “But think about it – Manty helped him a little, didn’t she?”

Aunt Mantis smiles, her weird funny smile, through the tears still shining in her big bug eyes. 

“Yes. A little bit.”

“There we go,” says Daddy. “And no one did anything wrong, and we’re all in one piece – so maybe – could you, could you be a big girl and grab our list from Manty for me? We gotta see where else we need to go.”

He steps forward so that Meredith can grab the list and makes a funny noise in the back of his throat. Meredith crosses her arms over her chest, suddenly remembering something.

“Daddy,” says Meredith, “you said you weren’t s’posed to run and stuff.”

Daddy laughs a funny huffing laugh and shakes his head, hoisting Meredith a little bit further up in his arms. 

“Yeah,” he says, “yeah – don’t tell your mom.”

Meredith keeps her hand flat against the front of Daddy’s chin and says, “Did you know the bad man who took Aunty Manty from her family? Is he why the mean silver lady didn’t like her?”

Daddy’s smile disappears.

Meredith’s fingers curl a little bit against his chin, and he reaches up, all soft and gentle like he can be with her sometimes when she’s sleepy or upset, and pulls her hand away from his face.

“Daddy?”

“No,” says Daddy, his big warm hand still holding onto Meredith’s. “No, Mer-Bear. He’s not. Let’s go get the rest of our stuff. And it still ain’t your fault,” he adds, shifting Meredith in his arms and turning to Aunt Mantis, “so don’t you go apologizing again.”

Aunt Mantis doesn’t move right away, instead standing still and pressing her hands flat against the soft leather front of her green shirt.

Meredith says,

“‘M glad you helped the puppy a little bit, Aunty Manty.”

Aunt Mantis’s antennae twitch a little bit, like they do when she’s happy, but her face still looks a bit sad. “Thank you, Mer. I am glad you are not scared anymore. Your safeness is very important.”

“She’s right,” says Daddy, in a funny voice that sounds as scratchy as his beard felt.

“Thank you for calling me your sister,” says Aunt Mantis, suddenly, quietly. “It was very nice to hear.”

Daddy sighs. It’s long and big and Meredith feels him breathe in and out, but his face is a bit softer than before, and he reaches out and wraps an arm around Mantis’s shoulders, tugging her in and giving her a one-armed squeeze. Meredith likes one-armed squeezes, almost as much as she likes full hugs, but not quite ‘cause full hugs are a bit bigger and warmer and you can always press your face in the other person’s neck, ‘specially if you’re smaller than them.

Meredith’s smaller than most folks. She wonders, as her tears dry on her cheeks in the muggy air, if she should’ve given the puppy her sandwich before Silver Lady got there and started yelling. Meredith counts each puddle as they pass by it, and wonders, too, if the sky’s feelings make her tummy feel as weird and messy as Meredith’s feelings make _hers_ feel. 

She’ll ask Uncle Drax, later; he’ll probably know.

**

“You must stir it very carefully, little Meredith.”

“It’s glowin’ real bright, ain’t it.”

“The perfect consistency,” declares Uncle Drax, holding her up just a little bit higher so that she can stir the pot properly, a whole three stirs in a row. Meredith’s sock-clad feet are hanging in the middle of the air, and she has to remember not to swing them and bump against the stove.

Uncle Drax is teaching her how to cook.

It’s going pretty well, thinks Meredith, considering all things – that’s an expression Meredith’s heard grown ups use – and Meredith’s having lots of fun stirring the glowy soup. Uncle Drax says it’s gonna be good for everyone’s diges-shun – that’s what Meredith heard – and he keeps telling her that since he’s teaching her from littleness like this, she’s gonna be a whole lot better at cooking than Mama and Daddy ever are.

Not that Daddy’s _bad_ , but Uncle Drax is better.

(Mama doesn’t really cook, and Meredith figures it’s ‘cause of that time Daddy said she set the stove on fire.)

Meredith was playing with Groot in the big room with the couch, before, with her favorite toys and colouring things, but Mama and Daddy were talking in the other room and something about their talking was making Meredith feel weird. It wasn’t like they were talking about bad things, only Meredith couldn’t help but feel like the mood wasn’t real happy and nice, and Mama said something about Meredith’s name at one point and it was sorta weird ‘cause Meredith wasn’t sure if they were talking about _her_.

Meredith knew that droppin’ her eaves wasn’t a super good grown up five year old thing to do, but their voices were just so _eavesdroppable_ , and Meredith couldn’t put her hands over her ears ‘cause she had to hold her toys.

 _“We can’t keep doubting ourselves_. _What did you say – what did you say when we found out? That she’d_ know _we loved her, Peter, she_ does _–”_

 _“But we don’t know jack shit about bringing up a kid, we – she was crying the other day ‘cause some psycho almost killed Mantis! What was I supposed to do,_ I _got her into that situation –”_

_“Peter –”_

_“I’m still fucked up from my own parents, okay, and_ you’re _–”_

 _“We’ve had this conversation, a_ hundred times _, we –”_

 _“Listen call me crazy but your sister has a half a point! We are winging what is possibly the one thing in this whole damn universe you are_ not _supposed to wing, and –”_

_“What would your mother have done?”_

They’d gone all quiet after that, for a whole few minutes, and Meredith hadn’t heard anything else, ‘cause she’d grabbed up all her toys and asked Groot if they could move to the kitchen, to hang out with Uncle Drax. She doesn’t like it when she doesn’t know why folks are upset, but she couldn’t say anything, ‘cause Mama told her once that listening in on doors wasn’t a very polite thing to do.

If they were talking about her, why’d they sound so worried-like? Mostly Meredith knows that when people’s voices get stressed and tight it means they’re worried, and Daddy’s voice sounded stressed and tight. 

But she’s cooking with Uncle Drax, now, so she doesn’t feel weird in her tummy anymore.

“Can I taste it, Uncle Drax?”

“It is scalding,” says Uncle Drax. “You will burn your tongue.”

“No I won’t!” protests Meredith, very nearly kicking out her foot but catching herself just in time.

“I am Groot,” says Groot, who is perched on the other side of the counter, watching Meredith learn. 

“Whadda _you_ know, Groot,” says Meredith, poking at the soup. “You just put leafs in everythin’.”

Uncle Drax holds Meredith motionless in the air and turns to Groot.

“She is correct. You do put leaves in everything; it’s bad for digestion.”

“I am Groot.”

“My cooking is vastly better than most ignorant kitchen-users,” protests Uncle Drax.

“Yeah!” says Meredith, giggling a bit. “Last week there was stuff _movin_ ’ in it, that’s how good it was.”

“I am Groot!” 

“Groot’s right,” says a new voice from the entrance to the kitchen, causing all three of them to turn around and Meredith to hold her stirring spoon upright, making a bit of soup splosh down to the floor. “Moving shit in food ain’t a good thing, Drax. Can I borrow Mer for a sec, or is this time-sensitive?”

Daddy’s leaning in through the hatchway to the kitchen, hanging from the doorframe like Mama always tells Meredith she shouldn’t do (stand up _straight_ , Mama says, so that folks take you serious), and grinning slightly, his eyes sparkling all funny and happy like they do when he’s in a good mood.

Meredith’s real glad, ‘cause his worried-like voice is gone, now, and Meredith’s tummy isn’t gonna feel all weird again.

“How can you borrow a child that is your own,” asks Uncle Drax, frowning. “That’s a ridiculous question.”

“I am Groot.”

“No,” says Daddy, sagging a bit against the door. “I meant –”

“I am teaching your daughter important life skills,” points out Uncle Drax, tilting his chin up. “What must you do this borrowing for?”

Daddy sighs, and swings himself into the kitchen, grabbing one of Uncle Rocket’s spare wrenches from where it was left on the table and tossing it up in his hands. He catches Meredith’s eye and grins.

“I got a surprise for her.”

Meredith yells, ‘cause she _loves_ surprises, and immediately starts wiggling in Uncle Drax’s hands.

“Can I go Uncle Drax, can I go can I go can I –”

“Cease your infernal wriggling, little worm child!”

“Daddy’s got a surprise, I wanna see the surprise, _please_ , please please please –”

“I am Groot!”

“Nope,” says Daddy, popping the _p_ and smiling serenely at Uncle Drax. “Just for Mer. It’s a special surprise.”

“Fine,” says Uncle Drax, sounding unimpressed, putting Meredith down gently. Meredith yells happily and starts running forward, spoon still clutched in her hands, but before she can get very far, Daddy’s plucked the spoon from her hand and Meredith from the floor, swinging her up and over his shoulder like a sack of purple tubers.

Meredith shrieks with laughter and giggles the whole way up, reaching out her hands so that her fingers can feel all funny as they swing upside down and watching as Daddy throws the spoon back to Uncle Drax, grinning. Everything’s happening in upside-down mode, and Meredith wishes she could just stay like this over Daddy’s shoulder forever, ‘cept usually after five minutes her head starts to feel fuzzy, so Daddy says she can’t.

Meredith waves goodbye to Groot and Uncle Drax as Daddy carries her out of the room, and then lifts her head to look at him. From her upside-down angle, Meredith can see right up his nose, and she giggles again.

“What’s the surprise, Daddy?”

“If I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise, now, would it.”

“‘S it a big one?”

“Aw, not that big,” says Daddy, grinning, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “But I think you’ll like it.”

“Is Mama comin’ to the surprise too?”

“Nah, she’s in the cargo bay helping Mantis with her hand-to-hand,” says Daddy, letting Meredith swing back and forth a bit. “But don’t worry, it’ll just be me and you time. We’ll put on some music, how’s that?”

“Yay!” says Meredith, dropping her hands again.

When they get to their big shared room, Daddy swings Meredith down and rocks her back and forth a couple times before letting go and dropping her on their big shared bed with a shriek of laughter and a big whoop.

Meredith loves making big whoops, almost more than anything else in the whole world. 

And she knows, also more than anything else in the world, that when Daddy plays this game with her he’s happier than anything, ready to tickle her feet and blow in her face as many times as she wants while Meredith bounces back and forth onto the pillows lining the wall the bed’s pressed up against. It’s _their game_ , and Meredith lets herself grin a real big grin up at the ceiling for a whole couple seconds before craning her neck up funny so she can see what Daddy’s up to. He’s rummaging in the corner, so Meredith rolls over and grabs his Zune from the groove in the wall where he keeps it, and flops back onto her back before starting to flick through it. 

Meredith grins down at the song on the screen and presses play.

“ _If I could turn the page, the times that I’d be your angel …_ ”

“‘S that Fleetwood Mac?” asks Daddy, popping back up from his rummaging and squinting his eyes at her.

“Uhuh,” says Meredith, kicking up her legs a bit into the air. “Are we gonna see the s’prise soon, Daddy?”

“Hold your horses, spaceman,” says Daddy, pulling a silly face, and Meredith flops backwards and groans, just so she can be silly, too.

Daddy’s pulled out one of his old boxes, Meredith can see now, from its place pressed up snug in the back corner. It’s old, the kind of old where the green plastic on the sides and lid is a little bit cracked from how old it is, like it’s just so tired of livin’ that it’s started warping in on itself. That’s what Daddy says happens to some folks when they get tired of livin’ – if they’re all up for life, Daddy says, they can keep their warping away for years unless something else drops down and puts a stop to it.

Meredith knows that sometimes those something else’s drop down even if everyone doesn’t want them too. Mama says that it’s okay, though, ‘cause one day all those folks will see each other again in the stars.

Daddy always goes quiet when Mama says this, and he’s sorta gone quiet now, too, Meredith thinks, not even humming as he pops the box’s lid open and starts rummaging. Meredith can’t read too good yet, but she knows this has gotta be Daddy’s special box of stuff, the one he’s kept everything in from way back before he’d even met Mama and Uncle Drax and Uncle Rocket and Groot.

 _“Tell me lies,”_ sings the Zune, “ _tell me sweet little lies, oh no no, you can’t disguise …”_

“Daddy?”

“Just a se – got it! Got it, okay –” He stands up holding a little scrap of something all folded up and faded in one hand and a little plastic baggy in the other, smiling like he’s found something real important. “Here we go,” Daddy continues, stepping over an old blaster and something that looks like a way-older version of one of Groot’s video games, and what Meredith recognizes as the family’s old collection of rainbow nail polish, all strewn out on the floor from where he’d tossed ‘em in his rummaging.

Daddy flops down onto the bed beside Meredith, hard on purpose so she and the pillows bounce, and Meredith giggles a bit.

Except instead of showing her whatever’s in his hand, Daddy wraps one big arm around Meredith’s shoulders, first, tugging her in and just sitting there.

“Daddy,” says Meredith. “Is _this_ the s’prise.”

Daddy laughs softly, pulling her in so her head bumps against his chest, and shakes his head _no_.

“Nah. Just wanted to sit for a second with my favorite kid.”

“I’m your _only_ kid,” says Meredith, half-rolling her eyes ‘cause Daddy can be so _silly_ sometimes. Daddy pulls a funny face, his eyes bugging out.

“Nuh-uh!” he says. “You’re forgetting Groot!”

Meredith makes an _oh_ shape with her mouth, ‘cause that’s _true_ , ain’t it.

“But if Groot’s not your favorite too then that’s not _fair_ ,” says Meredith, frowning a little. 

Daddy laughs again, and pokes her in Ticklish Spot Number Three so that she wriggles like a worm again.

“Alright, alright, you got me, I don’t have favorites. Mama’s my favorite.”

Meredith nods, ‘cause that’s how it _ought_ to be – Mama is her favorite too – and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Daddy,” she says, once again seriously. “I left Uncle Drax for a whole _surprise_.”

It’s funny, Meredith thinks, ‘cause Daddy’s got lots of soft faces – lots more than Mama and Uncle Drax do, even though Meredith loves _theirs_ a whole lot. Meredith likes to think she’s seen most of Daddy’s soft faces by know – like she really _knows_ ‘em. Like how sometimes, his face goes soft and it’s a little lopsided, and sometimes, it’s soft ‘cause he’s just waking up and his face muscles ain’t working proper yet – that’s what _he_ says – and sometimes it’s ‘cause he’s really happy but in a quiet sorta way, and sometimes it’s ‘cause he’s sad.

(Meredith doesn’t like those times.)

Meredith’s not sure what kind of soft this is. She’s not sure she’s seen it before, she thinks.

“Yeah,” says Daddy, “yeah, I – I found you something, earlier today.” 

He turns his hand over, so the folded up square he’d been carrying flaps open, and holds it out between them so that Meredith can take it from him.

It’s soft against her fingers, kinda like worn-out shirts are soft only the feeling’s a bit different. Meredith doesn’t think she’s ever felt anything like it before, and she holds it cupped in her two hands ‘cause that feels the right thing to do, gentle and slow. It kinda looks like someone keeps folding it and unfolding it, so much that the fold lines are faded white through the picture – and that’s it, ain’t it.

It’s a _picture_.

“Thought you should finally see it,” says Daddy, his voice as soft as his face.

There’s a woman in the picture, a big big smile on her pretty face, like she’s got everything in the whole world to be happy about. She’s hugging a little boy from the side, kinda just like how Daddy’s hugging Meredith right now, and he’s laughing too, his eyes all scrunched up in the corners. The picture’s kinda grainy, but Meredith can see the lady’s rosy cheeks, and her curved up nose, and most of all, Meredith can see her curly hair, curly just like Meredith’s. Only instead of how Meredith’s hair is dark, with purple at the ends, hers is golden brown, kinda like –

“Her name’s Meredith,” says Daddy, nudging her with his arm. 

Meredith looks the picture with big wide eyes.

“Just like me?”

“Just like you.”

“She’s so pretty,” says Meredith, in a little voice, ‘cause she really is _so_ pretty, almost prettier than Mama, and Meredith’s never met anyone with the same name as her before. 

“She,” says Daddy, “she’s your grandma.”

There’s a whole moment, like something big and new and special’s just happened. Meredith can’t say what it is, but it’s a _feeling_. She knows.

“ _Really_?” says Meredith, eyes going _even_ wider.

She’s got funny buzz in her chest, like she’s warm and cozy but also a little bit sad, only she’s not sure why. Maybe ‘cause she never got to ever see her grandma – ever since Meredith can remember, she’s been gone away to that place in the stars and Meredith’s never met her, ‘cause of the hundred million time jumps, she remembers – but more importantly, Meredith didn’t know her grandma had the same name as Meredith does, up until right this second.

Mama doesn’t know too much about _her_ Mama and Daddy – that’s what she told Meredith once – but Meredith’d always thought that Daddy’s didn’t know much either, and that’s why he never said much. ‘Cause Daddy usually talks a whole lot about _everything_ he really likes, like music and dancing and Meredith and Mama, and cool guns and the pretty colours in the stars and the feeling of bein’ real happy.

Daddy doesn’t really talk about his Mama much, other than little nice things here and there that slip out and always make Meredith feel like she was a wonderful kinda person, the sort of person that makes everyone around them really happy.

Meredith thinks that Daddy’s that kinda person, which makes everything sorta make sense, in a roundabout way.

Daddy makes a small sound that Meredith can’t figure out and squeezes her with his arm. “Yep. ‘N that’s me, right there.”

“What! But you’re so _small_!” says Meredith, holding the picture up, like maybe if it’s in the middle of the air she can see it better. “That’s not you!”

“Sure it is,” says Daddy, laughing a bit again. “Gotta’ve been – shit, I dunno, a few years older than you are, now.”

“Shit,” echoes Meredith, still looking at the picture; Daddy makes a noise at the back of his throat, almost like a laugh that got lost somewhere in his mouth.

Meredith turns around so she can look at him properly – growing up is _weird_ , Meredith thinks, cause Daddy’s a whole lot different-looking now, and he’s got a beard and _everything_ – and is about to giggle, only for some reason Daddy’s eyes are all wet.

Meredith pauses, and holds the picture a bit closer to her chest.

“Daddy?”

Quick as anything, Daddy’s hands come up to wipe away the wetness, fast and sort of jerky, and he’s smiling down at her, small and crooked.

“Yeah, sweet pea.”

“Does thinkin’ ‘bout grandma that’s named like me make you sad?”

Something about the wonkiness of Daddy’s smile goes away.

“Naw,” he says, in a real quiet voice. “This is a happy sorta sad.”

“A _happy_ sorta sad,” says Meredith, scrunching up her nose.

“Sure,” says Daddy, and then suddenly scoops Meredith up from under her armpits and plops her down in his lap. He’s quiet a couple seconds, just looking at her, so Meredith brings up her free hand to start squeezing his nose, just for the fun of it. “Y’know,” says Daddy, his voice coming out funny and nasal, “she’d’a really loved you, your grandma.”

“‘Cause we have the same name?” asks Meredith philosophically. That’s a good reason to like someone you’ve never met, Meredith thinks. Daddy grins, and bends his knees a bit so that Meredith can sit up properly.

“‘Cause you’re good,” says Daddy, bopping _her_ nose, now, lightly, with his finger, “and smart,” _bop_ , “and brave as hell.” _Bop_. “Just like she was.” He pauses, and slowly raises an eyebrow at her. “And she had some _killer_ dance moves.”

“Like me!” says Meredith excitedly, leaning against Daddy’s chest and bouncing a bit in her seat. 

“Just like you.”

“D’you miss her, Daddy?”

Meredith can see Daddy’s throat move when he swallows, and says, “Yeah, kid. Yeah, I do.”

“But it’s okay,” says Meredith, “‘cause I bet she really loves you, too. If she loves me an’ doesn’t even _know_ me. And you’re good n’ nice n’ brave and stuff, too.”

Daddy’s face is all soft again, like it was before, the kind that Meredith wasn’t sure about. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, she –” He sucks in a deep breath, and tugs lightly on one of Meredith’s curls with his fingers. “Mer-Bear. You know – you know me and Mama – sometimes, we don’t really know what we’re doing. Like, at all.”

“It’s okay,” says Meredith honestly, ‘cause she’s not sure what they’re supposed to know how to do, or what it has to do with grandma who’s named like her. “I can show you. But only if it’s cookin’ stuff, ‘cause that’s the only thing I know how to do better ‘n you. Or we could ask Uncle Drax.”

“Meredith,” says Daddy, and Meredith wants to ask why his eyes are wet again, but she’s not sure she’s _supposed_ to, so she just looks back down at her photograph and starts tracing grandma who’s named like her’s face. “I just –” He makes a funny sound at the back of his throat. “You gotta know – we love you _so_ much.”

“I know that, Daddy,” says Meredith, ‘cause she thought that was _obvious_. _Everyone_ knows that.

“You do?”

“Uhuh,” says Meredith. “It’s okay if you can’t cook. I’ll just get real good at it and do it for us, forever ‘n ever ‘n stuff. But you’ll hafta get me a new green marker ‘cause I still don’t got one.”

Daddy smiles, kinda crooked, but good.

“Deal,” he says. And then, “Was it cool to see a photo of your grandma?”

“Yeah!” says Meredith, still twiddling her fingers over the photo. There’s grass in the background, Meredith is noticing now. It’s all green and thick and pretty. 

“Yeah?”

“It was a good s’prise,” says Meredith, leaning forward and wrapping her arms around Daddy in a hug. Meredith’s got no marketable skills, but she _knows_ when folks need hugs. She tucks her head against Daddy’s neck again, and the photo in her hands presses against Daddy’s back, and she grins when Daddy hugs her back – strong and tight and warm. “I love you, Daddy.”

“Love you too, bean. To the stars and back.”

“The stars ‘n back,” repeats Meredith, and together, they start humming along to the Zune. It’s one of Meredith’s favorite things to do in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> NOTES!!!! BC THERE WERENT ENOUGH AT THE BEGINNING!
> 
> i wanted to explore a few things with this fic, but predominantly:
> 
> 1) it takes a village to raise a child is a successful and wholesome approach to having kids  
> 2) extremely unorthodox parenting styles dont necessarily have to be unsuccessful  
> 3) breaking the cycle of abuse (a theme thats surprisingly well-handled in the chaos of gotg) is important and good, but even after years of healing, there's still some baggage that needs to be worked through, and that's not necessarily mutually exclusive with having a happy healthy family
> 
> there's no defined plot, unfortunately (whom is surprised) but i do think that i got where i wanted to go with it -- an understanding that parenting is not a linear step-by-step process with a guidebook, and that there are certain things that are essential and certain things that can really be shaken up. gotg has a lot of parent-child relationships, some good, others at best okay, and some outright horrendous, so i figured it would be a good medium for that kind of unpackaging. that being said, the different parenting styles in the fic aren't necessarily things that I wholeheartedly endorse -- its just that i've been thinking a lot about parents, and kids, and what's the most important thing in a parent-child relationship lately, and this fic gave me a good sounding board to poke around with those thoughts a bit while still having a lot of fun with these lovable morons
> 
> also, let's be real, hollywood needs to wake up one of these days and realize that the best thing you can add to an unorthodox space-cowboy superhero comedy action flick is a smiley baby
> 
> actually, the best thing you can add to any action flick is a smiley baby, but that's just my opinion.
> 
> i hope yall enjoyed!


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